I originally wrote this story back in October, 2015.

Yesterday there was the post about not telling about a bad dream until after breakfast. Not knowing whether that applies to all dreams, I got up and had a bowl of Raisin Bran, just to keep it on the safe side.

When I we lived in Dripping Springs in the 1985-1991 timeframe I, along with my sons were all baptized one Sunday morning by Rev. Grady Roe. It was about this time of year in 1985. I had only given myself over to going to church real sparingly up to that point. I wasn’t sure I had the time to go every Sunday, needing to rest up and get ready to watch the Cowboys play or whatever I did on most Sunday’s.

All that had changed when we moved to Dripping Springs. Madeline didn’t really pressure me to go but told me about her Sunday School class. She suggested that I could just attend Sunday School then leave. It wasn’t your typical class, it was made up of couples our age mostly and we would sit around and talk about the struggles of raising kids and other every day topics. Of course there was some Bible talk thrown in but it was different than I’d ever imagined it would be. Since I was already dressed up and there, I’d always go ahead and stay and listen to Grady. He was a tall man with great stories to tell.

It didn’t take but a few Sunday’s for me to be hooked. I wanted to be a part of that place. It was a very small Methodist Church, probably with not more than 40 or 50 in church on Sunday.

I think a lot of other people were hearing and feeling what I did. The place became crowded and soon it was time to build a bigger building. There had been talk of it for awhile, but when those pews were full it was time to move on from talking to doing.

A new high school had just been completed, so we moved the service out to the cafeteria while a new building was designed and built. The old church building was sold to a funeral home, which was helpful in paying for the new building. There’s a whole other story there, that I won’t even go into.

People were moving out of Austin in droves at that time. So the prospects of being able to pay for a fine new facility didn’t seem to worry some of us. Others, maybe less forward thinkers may not have been so sure. In time the building was completed and we moved in and the church continued to grow and has been a blessing to many. I’ve been back by a few times since we left there and it continues to grow. It is now a huge church.

This brings me to my dream last night. The contractor we hired, the name escapes me now was from Fort Worth. They sent a young man, Duncan to oversee the project. He was young, I think not even 30 tears old, but certainly had a good grasp of how to build a church building. I didn’t have a real role in overseeing how thing went up, but with a flexible working schedule I was able to be there often as the building went up. So I was around Duncan daily and got to know him, but I didn’t really know him. I have no idea where he grew up, what his political views were and stuff like that. We mostly talked about the building and what it would take to get the job done.

We invited him to play on our church softball team. I remember him being better than several of us. Not good enough to make us winners, however. In those days there were some really competitive softball players in Dripping Springs. I’m sure there were years when we hardly ever won a game. But it was fun.

The building finally was finished, we moved in and Duncan moved on. I never really thought that much about him after that.

So why after almost 30 years would I have a dream about him, his full name jumping out at me? Enough so that I got up in the the middle of the night to search and see where he is now. Yes I found him down in Tomball, Texas and it appears that he is still building buildings.

It’s strange how the mind works. I guess a strange mind is better than no mind at all.