A Dream of Jack

I dreamed of my
dead brother, Jack.
We were talking about
a newly purchased house
in central California somewhere

that is in need of restoration.

It was a quick dream;
very few details, and not
until I woke did it make any
sense with me filling in the de-
tails of what would be re-

quired.  He was more
into automobile repair than
house construction, so I began
thinking of how I would help him
with such a project.  My

head perked up thinking
of how I could help him after
he has done so much for all his
siblings; it was a relief from the
money business to think

of working together with
him on something I under-
stand.  Then with coffee in
hand, the reflection seemed
silly.  We will not pound

nails together.