A tall thin man with wavy dark hair sits down next to me. “Hey brother, good to meet you.”

“Good to meet you,” I gave him a wan smile and looked back up at the game.

“I had this dream, it was just awful” he started,” last night, you know, the kind of dream that sticks with you.”

I turned to him, “Yeah, you ok now?”

“I don’t know man, maybe?”

“What was the dream?” I asked.

“My father, he died when I was very young, I hardly knew him. but there he was coming out of this church. It was a bit like Saint Ann’s, you know all stones and a nice little yard around it, and as he came out there’s this roaring noise from the organ — not music just a raging wild battle cry type noise.  He walked over to me and my brother standing on the sidewalk, looked at us both a bit sadly, then grabbed my brother’s hand and pulled him toward the cemetery. I’ve been trying to reach my brother, but I been able to talk to him all day and I just have this sick feeling.”

I point at the bartender, he nods, “what can I get you?”

“Another Hennessy,” I shrug toward the guy next to me, “and give this guy another of whatever he’s having”

The thin man glances at me with a blush and lots of gratitude, “You’re a good man. Thanks brother.”

His phone rings a retro-ring that sounds like a real bell, when he answers he says, “yeah, that’s me,” then he turns white and starts to cry.

“My brother’s dead.”