"...White Sox"

It's weird how passed on family, and friends can find you when you dream. My brother grandma friends from I was little know what floor I'm on. Even my dog Brownie who we adopted when I was seven. Bleep if she didn't find me too.

These beloved spooks rarely speak. They just drop by to see if I ever got a real job, and what weird crap I've been up to. 

My dear doggo Brownie showed up this morning. This in the dreamland mashup of my last 70 years. We chatted, and as usual got around to theology. I asked her if there was a dog heaven.  

*She was sitting in a lawn chair sipping a Lime Rickie. This while the Brooklyn Dodgers were playing da White Sox on a 1950's radio that floated just above us. A plate of red beans, and rice appeared in front of me. A root beer too. This happens in dreams. *...Okay I made this part up. I like doing weird stuff like this.

As to my doggo paradise question. Which I did ask. Brownie just shrugged, and said "...quit being so Catholic." That, and she needed to be taken for a walk. 

At this point my door bell rings waking me up. They wanted the folks across the hall. This always happens. I only get Social Services checking to see if I'm still alive. That or Fed-Ex. Bleep it I'm breathing.