Last night, I had a dream. I pulled a bright red, dusty old car into a gravel driveway next to a tiny white house in the middle of miles and miles of long, blowing grass. I got out and looked around. The sun had cast an orange, hazy light on each green blade. Every speck of dust was illuminated as they lazily floated in and out of the streams of sunlight. I started walking down a hill. It was the same hill that my friends and I played on years ago at reccess. We would roll down it and make our secret hide-outs. We played t-ball in that grass on Wednesday nights and ate popsicles. Then, in my dream, I started to run. When I got to the bottom, Duchess ran up and and jumped on me. She was on a leash, and my grandpa was holding the other end of it. He was wearing his work uniform even though he had been retired for years. It was a blue, button-up collared shirt with matching slacks. The same one he wore when he was an extra in the movie "Terms of Endearment." I was always so pr