Endigar 170

I had a dream with my now deceased Mother in it.  We were traveling north, it was mountainous terrain, like in Tennessee.  There were cell phones scattered below rocky escarpments along the road.  I assumed people had dropped them walking around atop, and would just discard them.  I seemed to feel very good about myself.

Back in the neighborhood Mom, Dad, and I were visiting there were a couple of individuals who had come to see me.  Pete Ross, dark haired and wearing a blue and white racing jacket, like the motorcycle racers wear.  And an artist that came to my Mother’s art studio when we lived in Centreville.  His name was Dusty Rhodes (looks nothing like the wrestler). 

I never got a chance to talk to either one of them.  I felt like I needed to prepare myself first.  Mom wouldn’t tell me why they had come.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: