Grandmaster Nakamura was playing Blitz-Chess at his computer.   

On the screen, the Chess pieces were of various geometric shapes more resembling hearts, stars, diamonds, squares and horseshoes then horses.

The pieces themselves moved in a random fashion.  A king moved as a knight.  A square piece moved as a Bishop.  A heart-piece moved as a pawn.
Imagine the pieces ability to move were shuffled in a Fischer Random fashion.

GM Nakamura stood up after a moment and said, “Okay, time to play Blitz now.”  
I [rather presumptively] took that to mean I could play on his computer since he was leaving.  
And, his account remained logged in under his handle, “Smallville.”

Sitting logged in a Grandmasters’ online Chess account felt oddly empowering.
Every click and typed word would represent 1000’s of hours of games, preparation, and conversations.  I scrolled up and down the Chessclub window.  About every twenty lines was a shortly worded personal tell from another player.

I wanted to reply with something witty, but I couldn’t think of anything.
I wanted to play Chess as ‘Smallville” but I couldn’t play Chess that well and I’d just lose.

And in the end… The Dream just faded.

Moral / Conclusion.
It reminds me of a children’s book is a story about an alien race of nano-mechanical crystals.  
These bots traveled acrossed the world assembling themselves into copies of structures that existed on Earth.

In the story, a farmer might wake up one morning to the shock of seeing a second farm, or a second water tower in his field. 
At the stories concusion the nanos left Earth unhappy.  They were unhappy because, they could take the shape of a building or a car, but could never actually BE a building or car.

In the dream, I could sit at GM Nakamura’s computer, move his chess pieces in his chair, But I could neither play his Chess or make quick fun witty replies as he is sometimes known to do.

I could not be 'Smallville'.