I haven’t dreamed of Kentra in awhile. After we lost her in 1986 I would dream about her almost nightly. As time passed, the number of dreams about her decreased in frequency but remained ever powerful. I now only dream of her about once a year, but when I do, the dreams seem to last all night, and the thought of her sticks with me for days.
After one of my “all-nighters,” her face – always the same as it was when she was 14 – lingers in my mind. Her voice echoes in my head. Her smile lights up my heart … and makes it sad at the same time.
Last night, she was running – driving actually – to protect a treasure that a gang of well-dressed, filthy rich, modern-day desperados were after. My son’s friend, Matt, who also plays guitar for The Next, was one of the bandits.
