This morning my father wrote to me:
Are any of your new friends good dream interpreters? Last night I dreamed about you. We were walking up ninth street, in Alton [Illinois] at the stopsign where it becomes State. The hill was steep. We were out in the street, not on the sidewalk.
I lost sight of you. The hill got steeper. Then you came along, riding a litle brown pony about the size of Tony, only brown, not spotted. We never owned a horse like that one.
You were bareback, laughing. I was trying to figure how to get on behind you when I woke up.