Ten.Two Thousand & Thirty
In the dream, we are walking and walking and walking. Every door is just a portal to another cavernous room. We can’t find our way out. There is no way out.
No zero hour.
Making time to ride with them to school, doing the loop.
Sawing concrete.
I say that it’s just my intuition, and I need to explore every option before we go any further.
None of this is making any sense.
It didn’t go as planned - it rarely does - but we make the best of it anyway. I decide to turn it into a lunch. It’s good for us to sit and talk and for it not to always be about work.
The thing is, no one really knows what’s going on.
Championship game, round two. 1-1 after six innings. Errors in fielding lead to some easy runs scored. Too much to fight back from in the bottom on the 7th. Final score - 5-2. A hard loss but a well-fought game.
We walk past the truck, and both see that the tags are from Mississippi. We laugh. That explains everything.
