Mom, Dad, David, and Miriam go out to buy new technological gadgets while I sleep. I awake to find new speakers playing music on my laptop. Miriam then shows me a gray plastic frame that holds several screens. It is the size of a half-folded newspaper. I see old Stenshoel home movies of our HO road race set in action. Then she shows me how it can shapeshift into differnt dimensions (from oblong to square). Finally, she indicates that if I say a name, old home movies will show of that person. So I say, “Jeff Pike.”
I am with several people on a bus. My uncle Andy Olson, who passed a couple years ago, is either at the wheel or on board. Everybody seems happy and friendly. We let a few passengers off, but most of us are going to a destination Andy wants us to see. Even when we scurry through a tunnel too tight to allow a pedestrian, no harm comes to the woman. We soon get to Andy’s new house. Even though we are many, and crowd in, he seems very pleased to have us all there. It feels wonderful to be there. A note about Andy: When he died, he was in an “old folks home” and suffered from dementia. During his life, though a genial host and wonderful companion, he had suffered from schizophrenia, and, I believe, the effects of over-medication. He had spent years at a really good retirement home in Coronado, the pretty island off San Diego proper. When he became too sick, he was put into a midwestern facility where he gradually succombed to his dementia. When he died, I awaited some positive sign from him, but none came. This is the first communication and I am overjoyed for him.