Adam was right there in my dreams when I woke up this morning. He was living at home and for some reason had brought home a white bulldog looking thing with a pattern on it's fur like colored confetti. It was walking down the front steps and I was afraid to touch it. He also had a bull on the porch and had built a little pen in the front yard for it. Pat goes, "You should really have that in the back yard." Then Adam said, "Don't look under the front porch, we put something there, too, it's not snakes."
That's about it folks. It was good to see him but left me feeling more bereft this time. Either today or tomorrow is the actual day Adam probably died two years ago. We don't know for sure.
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