This is Bill, our problem child. He has every bad habit known to dog: chewing, biting, barking, peeing, and general misbehavior. I believe he would chase cars, if given a chance. But we love him anyway, and we keep working on his social skills.
Last night I dreamt you came to see me. You brought a few of your employees, and a friendly beautiful blonde woman sat at the table with me; she held up a massive gilded mirror, and in its reflection I could see a pair of lights in the nighttime sky. I knew I was safe; someone from above was watching over my shoulder.
You delegated duties, so effortless. When we were finally alone, you told me, once again, how much you loved me.
Why do you care about me so much, and where have you been? I miss you always; you weigh on my heart.
Dreaming about you has made me tired today, and so sad.
A man just came into my room. I am living in disorder, and I am aghast at the mess around me; how has it come to this?
Please, help me.
Compared to you, he is nothing…so many of them are nothing, a virtual parade of zeroes, one after the other.
The woman in the dream asked me to stand by the road and take the tolls, so I did—for a while.
You came along, and together we took our walk; and you held me close to you because you are my brother, my friend, my love, you know everything.
For you, I abandoned my own to run alongside for a day, for years, and I am still beside you.
Now the woman is having a tantrum; the toll is uncollected.