Two nights ago I was suffering from a horrible fever related to the flu. I had a high temp, horrible body aches, and massive chills. I spent a ton of time in bed, trying to find some kind of what to just get better. As such, I found myself in and out of consciousness, and many times faced with those weird dreams that come along with a fever.
One such dream was about my Dad. As stated here earlier, I have only dreamed of my Dad a couple of times since he died, thus I was thrilled with the opportunity (both in my dream and in waking).
In my dream, I was travelling for work with a coworker and the Yellow Dog, and we found ourselves in Iowa with some time on our hands. Since I had a dog and a shotgun with me, it seemed like a good way to kill some time would be to try our hand at quail hunting. We asked around for good places to go, and found ourselves in a local cafe. There sat Dad, and I asked him about quail hunting places.
He was a font of information, and gave us some great leads. There was only one problem - as he talked to me, he did it with a distinctly Southern drawl.
Dad always maintained a Midwest accent, even during a couple-year stint living in Mississippi's gulf coast. His voice was always a cigar-soaked Minnesota baritone.
Thus, the only thing I can surmise is that Heaven must be in the South somewhere.
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