I just came across this post today, lying in my sick bed with that same fluffy cat across my lap and remembered that the house phone rang this morning and it WAS a four-digit number, but the phone I grabbed died in my hand before I could hear anything.
We planned on sleeping in a little on Saturday. We silly humans who make plans. And the cats say “ha!” My big fluffy tiger cat sat by my closed door and whined loudly for attention at the crack of 7:00 a.m. I grabbed my pillow and then him and went downstairs to the couch to try to find a few more minutes of sleep there, with a cat purring upon me.
When I fell back to sleep, I had the weirdest dream. I was out, at a party or something, and my cell phone rang. I looked down to see who would be calling and all I saw was four digits … 2 7 7 9 (I think). I answered tentatively, “hello?”
“Hi Tina, it’s dad,” came my father’s voice through my ear. Distinctly my father’s voice. Not his timid, little-boy, end-of-life voice, as we came to call it. No…
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