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Bad dream . . .

I had a really bad dream last night. I dreamed that my mom and I were watching the Olympics, and I'm not exactly sure where we were watching them. However, for whatever reason, they were being aired live and the cameras weren't being monitored all that well, so the only choice the people who were doing the commentary had were to comment on the sad things, too.

We were watching the girls do their gymnastics floor exercises. The one girl went to do her routine and she did this fancy flip, but then she landed on the hard floor of the arena and not on the special floor for the floor exercises, and the horrible part was that she landed on her head. She wasn't moving and everybody gathered around, and sure enough, her eyes rolled back into her head and the sad news that she had passed away was broadcast.

This made me run into where my Daddy was resting as he was still alive in my dream and hug him and tell him how much I love him. Of course, I woke up with the realization that he's not here and that I didn't get to tell him one last, "I love you."

At least we have some sweet dogs . . . and at least at times I still feel that cold presence at my left arm that makes me feel warm inside.

It made my dad not so good, though . . .

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