Читать книгу The Creator's Game - Art Coulson - Страница 13

The smell of toast and frying bacon woke Travis. He dressed quickly, ran his fingers through his black hair, and walked out to the table. Grandma perched like a bird over her warm mug of coffee, with her feet on the seat of her chair and her knees bent up under her nightgown.

“How did you sleep?” Mom asked as she brought a plate to him.

“Great,” Travis said between bites. “Grandpa told me a lot about lacrosse and why it’s so important to us.”

His mother stopped and turned to look at him. “You were dreaming, Trav. Your grandfather died a long time ago.”

“No, Mom, I talked to him last night. He was here. He looked just the same as he always did.”

“It was a dream. They can seem very real. I still dream about him sometimes, too.”

Mom began slicing some cheese from the block on the counter.

Grandma leaned over to Travis and wrapped a thin arm around the boy’s shoulder.

“You did see your grandfather,” she whispered. “I believe you. Sometimes grownups forget. Dreamtime is just as real as awake time. Adults just don’t want to believe it.”

Travis nodded, then took a sip of his milk.

“You can learn a lot from your dreams, if you will only pay attention and listen,” Grandma said. She smiled at him and winked. “Now hurry up and get your bag. I’ll meet you out in the car. You don’t want to be late again.”