(no subject)

Last night, I dreamed of Inky, and how he put his paws around my neck in what I can only describe as a hug, the last time I saw him. Then, I was leaning against the bar at Rose's Turn, a piano bar that doesn't exist anymore, looking out as the regulars, including one who has since passed away. Well, all right; I've seen quite a few people from Rose's of late, and had Inky make his welcome way into a conversation or two; if these are ghosts, then at least they are benevolent ones, and welcome.