Had a weird dream the other night, and my grandpa Jack was in it. He had good sensibilities and I respected that, but he wore his skin like iron. Made it difficult to connect with him. Maybe the dream reflected that, or maybe it didn’t. Don’t really know.
But It began with me walking into his bedroom as he’s in the midst of what appears to be his death throe. All riddled with the cancer and illness. He gives me a half-wave, as if to motion for me to come over toward him. I step forward, and he directs me to sit down on the bed beside him, so I do.
He then slowly points to the dusty headboard behind him, which has a shelf to hold books and photos and the like. I don’t know what he’s pointing at. So he asks me to turn him physically, so I do.
He positions himself in front of the headboard and points directly at a large petrified piece of wood tilted slightly toward the wall, but I can tell it has markings on it.
I look at the chunk of wood and see what appears to be men in loin cloths chucking spears at other men in robotic suits who are replying with bombs. Men chucking bombs and spears. That was the end of the picture.
I look at my grandpa as if to ask what it all means. He simply says: “Remember this.”