Ace?

Staring it down,The greatest shot of the round.Straight as an arrow, as high as a building,“Will I win” I am wondering. The shot finally lands,Club twirling in my hands.Thank God it's not in the trees,This feels like a breeze. I see the ball roll,Towards the hole.It sits on the edge,Like an egg on a ledge,Just before going in.   I drop my club, And begin to sprint.Running towards the green,That shot was so clean. I get up to the pin,I'm sure it went in.I reach into the hole,This shot was the goal.   We do a round of handshakes,They say it was fake.  I then wake up, The feeling is abrupt.  It was all a dream,What did it mean?Does this mean it will happen,I began laughing.   

This poem is about: 
Me

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