Here is the dream that led to today’s post:
Frank Robinson was supposed to make an appearance at some venue, like a large restaurant. Yes, Frank Robinson is dead, but in this dream he was still alive although, apparently, quite ill and this appearance was part of some sort of farewell tour.
I found the venue and walked inside. I waited for some time and at various points figured I should just leave. Then, I noticed Frank’s wife and daughter walking in and they both walked close to me. I said hello to them, but received no response. They both sat down at a large table.
I moved a little closer to the table where they were sitting, but not so close as to be considered hovering. I didn’t know what I should do next when I heard someone call my name. It was Frank Robinson, who was already seated at the table.
I sat next to Frank, who looked old and ill, and we began a conversation. At some point, though, I just hugged him and began to cry. Instead of being dismayed or embarrassed, Frank seemed to be understanding. The conversation continued for awhile, but I didn’t want to be accused of monopolizing the guest of honor so I said goodbye and left.
I wanted to call my wonderful wife and tell her what happened, but realized that I had lost my iPhone. I wound up in some large building, like a communal living space perhaps, among people much younger than I am. I desperately looked for my phone and began to get very angry, both at losing my phone and at how dependent I have become on my phone. That’s when I woke up.
August 31st was Frank Robinson’s birthday and I was originally going to write a post about him called Three Birthdays Missed instead of what I actually wrote. I guess my brain felt I needed to write about him, even if it is a few days after his birthday.
Given what I have written today, I don’t think writing anything else would be appropriate.
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