When they reached the four-way stop at the intersection, Buddy turned to his partner. "What's eatin' ya?" He watched Art unroll a fresh pack of Rolaid... and slip not one, but two into his mouth. "Jesus, Art, you look like you're about to faint. What the hell is it? We been pals a long time, if there's something..."Art chomped on the chalky discs, his lips stained white with alkaline.On a lighter note, Buddy chuckled, "How did Kathy like her garden?" Kathy never got her garden." Art stared. As for the colors, he had seen colors in his dreams for as far back as he could remember.“Perhaps it has something to do with a person’s imagination,” he thought to himself. “It might be that only the people with highly developed imaginations are able to see colors in their dreams. And, maybe, it’s only that limited number of people who are able to do things in their dreams that they couldn’t do in real life.”“That sounds like a pretty reasonable bit of logic, sir.” Someone or something said.. More

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