It was about 1:30 A.M. when I retired to my no-longer-sick but still empty bed. Early for this writer. I drifted off to dreamland almost immediately. A rather strange dreamland, I must say.

I found myself standing in an ornately furnished hallway of a large, expensive mansion. Before me was a gleaming door which opened inward by some unseen hand. When it stopped, I heard a voice say, "Please come in, Rascal. We've been expecting you."

"Yes Sir," I responded. I felt the unseen hand on my back propelling me forward.

Once inside, I stopped about three feet from he door which had closed without visible help behind me. A little apprehensive but unafraid, I pause to survey my dream situation.

I was in a very large, private office. At the other side of the room sat two gentlemen. There was a third empty chair. One man, who knew that I had never before seen, was behind an enormous, polished wooden desk on which a long-necked bottle with the name 'His Master's private vintage' appeared to be prepared for some special occasion. Even at that distance, cold condensation could be seen on the exposed portion of the bottle projecting from an ice-bucket. Near the swan-handled container stood two clean, Chrystal goblets.

The refined man's hair was sparkling white. Yet, he appeared to be about twenty-seven-years-old. His attire was a dark smoking jacket with a light colored ascot properly fitted around his neck, the tails of which disappeared into his well-tailored leisure garment.

The other gentleman was seated in one of two luxury, looked-to-be silken, chairs with his back toward me. I almost felt as though I knew him although I didn't know from where. His hair was very dark. Neatly trimmed to well above his collar, this second man was wearing a dark business suit. His long-sleeved, white shirt cuffs were obviously well starched. Perfect french cuffs were secured by links which had in them some sort of precious stones reflecting radiance from the room's chandelier. While the first man was standing, the second didn't get up or even turn to acknowledge me.

It was then that I noticed the absence of color in my dream. Normally my dreams are in vivid, living color. But not this one. As if set in the before-color television era, this dream was in all black and white.

"Please come forward, Rascal," the man behind the desk insisted. Knowing that I had no choice, I started walking across the room without waiting for a hand on my back to motivate me. I could feel the hairs standing up on my neck.

"Michael and I have been looking forward to talking to you, Rascal. We've actually been watching you for some time, haven't we Michael?" Before Michael could answer, I realized that I had heard that pleasant, smilingly confident voice on more than one occasion.

"Yes, John. We certainly have," Michael answered with a twinkle in his voice. A voice that I almost recognized. As I approached his desk, the first man spoke.

"Rascal, I'd like you to meet my friend and former Executive Secretary, Michael Anthony," the slender man of authority said with pride. Michael and I have been reunited here for some time."

Michael Anthony arose, turned to face me, and extended his well manicured, honest hand. "We have been awaiting someone like you, with a 'Good-heart,' Rascal, for years," Michael said.

It was a good thing that my heart was good, for if it hadn't have been, I'd have died in my sleep. "I am honored to meet you, Mr. Anthony," I said. "You look so young that I almost didn't recognize you. You used to look a lot like that cool actor, Marvin Miller. And your voice, Mr. John Beresford Tipton, could only have been created by the great LA voice actor, Paul Frees, which explains why your face never appeared on camera in 'The Millionaire'."

Both of my hosts laughed. "We, all of us here, are about twenty-seven-earth-years-old," Michael Anthony offered. My friend can explain if you are interested? John has been here somewhat longer than I have, Rascal."

"Gosh, I really would like to know about that," I exclaimed.

"Please have a seat, Rascal." The wise man behind the impeccable desk motioned to the empty chair which I sank into. He also seated himself and smiled, knowingly, before continuing. "You shouldn't too be surprised about our age appearance, Rascal. 'The Master' appears as He did physically when He was twenty-seven years old also. He is, of course, more beautiful and a more perfect physical specimen than any of us. Even more beautiful that the lying devil, Lucifer, who yet visits God when summoned as he was in the case of Job. Jesus only waited to age thirty because all scriptural 'Old Testament' laws, prophesies, and requirements had to be satisfied.

Your brother, Randall, has been here in heaven since a couple of years before you were born, Rascal. Your Mother was so thrilled to hold her twenty-seven-year-old-baby-boy when she arrived. I don't think that I have ever seen more tears of joy at a family reunion. Randall met your father when he arrived here too. He had been showing Bud all around heaven for years. He knows heaven like the back of his hand. Randall grew up here.

Your brother, Randall, is the reason behind your Mother giving you Thomas as your earthly first name. She knew that Thomas means twin. Randall will wat to be included in the visit you will one day have with yor Dad, Mother. ad Cindy.

You see, Rascal, there have always been children of abortions arriving here. The old timers say never have they seen so many from one country as sence Roe vs. Wade. Privatley, they confide that the real tragidies are in the emotional effects that the children's mothers suffered and the loss of joy that they would have experenced had they chosen not to abort their babies. Our Lord would have made things work out for the mothers and their children.

Didn't you have a dream, Rascal, where you were allowed to see your father here in heaven, about six months after he departed the earthly-plane?"

"Yes I did.. But," I answered, "But, how did you know?"

(To be continued in "The Millionaire Dream Series" Chapter Two)