Stop and take the time to smell the roses.
The other night I had a dream. It was about midday and I was heading home – driving down Douglas Avenue South Perth (Western Australia) in Dad’s car. Well. The family car now. In my rear vision mirror, an old-fashioned motorbike roared up my rear. The driver wore no helmet. It was Dad!
I was so very happy to see his face. Healthy and 65. He pulled up alongside and looked right through the window at me – his face not a foot from my own. I remember literally bursting with happiness.
He said, “Slow Down”. Clearly. Emphatically. And then he sped off ahead . . . Cheeky bugger.
I still have the strangest feeling that it really was him. I actually look forward to seeing him in my dreams.
