I had a dream about my childhood dog, Arbor. He was a golden retriever with the biggest brown eyes and the cutest face and I loved him to death. A car hit him one day when I left the front door open and he raced across the street to maul down the neighborhood stray cat.
In the dream we were back on the same street, right in front of my house; a one-story brick house with a black roof and dark green window shutters and door. It was so sunny I couldn't see any other house on the street. But I could see Arbor. He had tire streets all along his left side where he was struck. Both of us were in the middle of the street, standing in the exact spot where he died. He looked at me for a moment, his huge tongue rolling out of his mouth. Then suddenly, he began to jog down the street. I wordlessly followed.
I still couldn't see any houses, just white light. It was so bright, but gentle and warm. It was almost like we were in heaven. For what felt like hours we walked. My legs felt weightless, but tingly like sand was weaved throughout my skin. And then we suddenly stopped.
In front of us was a cup of coffee, the mug a sunshine yellow and the coffee itself the blackest I've ever seen. With no thought whatsoever, I picked it off the ground and tasted it. Bitter, yet tangy. My mouth opened and my tongue began to move. I could feel words vibrating out, but no sound.
Arbor looked at me with the closest thing to a smile a dog could muster. And opened his jaws to speak words that would change my life in more ways than I could imagine.
"Your bones know the way home"