I must be the Martin Luther King Jr. of baseball fans.

Why? Because I had a dream.

And like Dr. King, my vision saw a future of equal opportunity. Not for a single race, but for two long-suffering baseball franchises: the Boston Red Sox and the Chicago Cubs.

My dream saw these two teams battling in this year’s World Series. This epic match-up would guarantee the end of 180 years of frustration.

That’s right. It’s been 95 years since the Cubs won it all and 85 for the Red Sox.

Many might say that my vision is the actual seventh seal of the apocalypse.

To me, it’s like a man who finds water in the desert, only to be disappointed by a mirage. Both teams are in the race this year and could be primed for a run at the World Series, but logic tells me to make like Robert De Niro and fuhgetaboutit.

But oh, what a dream!

The two most-beloved losers in our country’s history could be duking it out for drought supremacy. Of course, the teams have faced each other in the World Series before. The Red Sox defeated the Cubs in six games way back in 1918.

In my dream, there was not only a buzz around Chicago and Boston, but the entire country as brother was pitted against brother and self against self. (Many fans find that they can’t help but cheer for both teams).

In my dream, this conversation took place on the message board at the fictional http://www.Somebodyhastowin.com:

CubsFan08: “We’re the worst. We keep waiting ’till next year.”

SoxFan18: “No, we are. I doubt Mark Grace would have just let the ball roll under his legs.”

CubsFan08: “Well it’s better to have been three outs away and lost than to never have been there at all.”

SoxFan18: “Whatever. This time we won’t let it slip away! Beah heah (Beer here)!”

Yes, football season was put on hold as sports fans flocked back to baseball.

The series would be played in national treasures: Fenway Park and Wrigley Field. Fenway has the Green Monster; Wrigley has ivy covering the outfield wall. Wrigley has bleacher bums in right field; Fenway has Pesky’s Pole.

Also in my dream, there were curses. And no, not the words that momma said not to use.

The ghost of the Great Bambino, Babe Ruth, who Boston traded to the Yankees, was still at Fenway, trying to, with cigar in mouth, prevent the Red Sox from winning.

Over at Wrigley, a little old billy goat tried to reverse the work of Ruth. According to myth, back in the 1945 World Series, the last the Cubs were in, a man brought his goat to the game, but it wasn’t allowed to occupy a seat. The owner left the ballpark and laid a curse upon the Cubs.

Well, that about sums up my dream. Wait, what’s that you say? Who won in my dream? Oh, I guess that is kind of important.

The Red Sox took a 1-0 series lead when Ted Williams hit a walk-off home run in the bottom of the ninth. (Oh, in my dream, the teams had past stars playing).

In Game 3, I saw Ran Santo, the current radio voice of the Cubs, leave his booth to pinch-hit with the score tied in the ninth. He drove a ball into the left field gap, and Lou Brock (yes, they acquired him back for a pair of minor leaguers) came around to score from first.

With the Red Sox one out from losing the series 4-2, Nomar Garciaparra blasted a drive to deep left that appeared to be hooking foul. Carlton Fisk, who represented the winning run, hopped off second base and guided the ball fair, giving the Red Sox an 7-6 victory.

Then, the seventh game came at Fenway Park. And the winner was. . . .

Sorry, I can’t tell you. My alarm clock rang. It was time for school.