It was a haunting dream. I was at a friends funeral. It wasn’t at a church or at a cemetery. Instead it was at a park in Marble Falls. That park was actually the old rodeo grounds in town. A lot of people showed up. It became a grand event.

As things got underway, something strange started to happen. It went from a single to a double casket affair. Everyone was saying such nice things about these fellows, whom had be friends for just about their whole lives. It got around to people getting up and telling stories about these two guys. It was a jovial affair, with few, if any tears being shed.

Then as I set there I peered into the one casket and it was me. How was it possible that I could be attending my own funeral? But it was me. They had done an exceptional job getting me made up, with not a hair out of place. They must have used a lot of Aqua Net, because my hair was real shiny.

When the service concluded we all were walking to our cars, talking just like nothing odd was happening. I guess no one noticed that we had just been to my funeral, yet we were all walking together to leave.

Anyway I woke up this morning a little earlier than normal, put my feet on the floor and got things moving, to be sure I was still here.

It all seemed so very real. I hope this isn’t a reoccurring dream. I’ve only had two reoccurring dreams in my life that I can remember.

The one was of me driving home to Smithwick late at night, going very fast. As I got to the long stretch we called mesquite flats the car became airborne, then it started tumbling end over end. I would finally wake up and that would cause the dream to be over with. I never was sure where that all came from, but I’m sure it was an inherent fear that one day that could happen. I had those dreams I think well after I was grown and married. They always played out much the same way.

Another one was showing up somewhere in a crowd of people to discover that I had no shirt on. I didn’t even have one with me. I’d have to leave and go back home to get my shirt. Luckily it was only my shirt. I always figured that all started from an escapade where I was left up at “Roadside” , intoxicated without a stitch of clothes on, which eventually lead me to spend the night at the Burnet County Jail. That was in my mid-teen years. That reoccurring dream stayed with me all the way through my forties, I think. It was nice when I finally left that one behind.

Either of those two dreams were not constant or regular, but came and went throughout many years. I hope this one last night doesn’t start coming back around. If it does, I’m going to seek psychiatric help.

I don’t think I’ll tell Sam, my old friend that I had a dream about him and I, as it may unnerve the ol boy.