re: Don S. Davis, 1942--2008

Peter Smith — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 16:29:06 GMT

"Bobby, may I share something with you? A vision, I had in my sleep last night. As distinguished from a dream, which is a mere sorting and cataloguing of the days events by the subconscious; a vision fresh and clear as a mountain stream, the mind revealing itself to itself. In my vision I was on the veranda of a vast estate, a palazzo of some fantastic proportion. There seemed to emanate from it a light, from within this gleaming, radiant marble. I had known this place. I had, in fact, been born and raised there, and this was my first return, a reunion with the deepest well-springs of my being. As I wondered about I noticed happily that the house had been immaculately maintained and there had been added to it a number of additional rooms, but in a way that blended so seamlessly with its original construction that one would not detect any difference. Returning to the house's grand foyer, there came a knock on the door. I opened it, and my son was standing there. He was happy and carefree, clearly living a life of deep harmony and joy. We embraced, a warm and loving embrace, nothing withheld. We were, in this moment, one. My vision ended, and I awoke with an overwhelming feeling of optimism and confidence in you, and your future. That was my vision, Bobby. It was you."