“I almost wish it wasn’t a dream. Does it have a meaning?”“How about a purpose? Will that work?” she asked.“What’s the purpose?”“You...��ve lost something and it has left you confused. I want to fix that. I want you to believe in magic, my young vagabond.” Her voice was so serious—so mournful.“That’s a little primitive, isn’t it? I can only believe in what is natural.”“But magic is natural. In fact, all of nature is magic. Magic, like turning a plain piece of wood into a beautiful art object. You. However, as I has teased her, there were also a few spots in the garage which had lights out that hadn't been replaced either, but she nearly always managed to park close to the door anyway, so a poorly lit basement garage didn't really bother her any.We'd been bowling for several weeks already when on one particular night I knew by Lucille's overall attitude that something was bothering her. She wouldn't talk to me about it however, so we continued to bowl, but I knew that something was wrong,. More

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