I had discovered you kind of had to manufacture your own fun in the hereafter by not doing anything that you had heard preached would be required once you entered heaven. I was able to avoid Mormon heaven successfully. I was sure I knew what that would consist of. Some good Mormon preaching was all that would be required by good Mormons to be happy and feel like they had found the 'right' place, but I had always been bored in church, so that kind of heaven was not my cup of tea.
I had checked on my kids who were all alive and well, but I was alarmed because up on Facebook my oldest great grandson, Tristam, was asking for prayers on his behalf. I immediately extended some prayers for him, because I figured no good looking fifteen year old ever asked for prayers unless he was really in need. There were a lot of ways a teen could get in big trouble. I did not dare think about my other wild teen grandson, Santee, who was just sixteen. I hoped he would survive the four day holidays also. His mother was probably not going to get him until the Christmas holiday, as he was quite far away and she would have to save up the money to go bring him home, as his father, my youngest son, Santos, was not working and would not be able to help her financially.
Santos' back injury required he quit his job to a big hotel where he had to do too much lifting to move heavy equipment into the area for big shows the conventions staged. Santos did not want to completely wreck his back, so hard times or not, he took the termination from his job rather than electing to keep on lifting until he was a complete physical wreck. I just hoped Santos would still be able to eat by Christmas. He seemed to be hoarding his little reserve of cash pretty well. Santos always had been able to live on practically nothing before he would resort to a boring job. He also did not want a back breaking job either, it seemed, which I thought might lead to hardship now, but not like a worse injury would.
Thinking of Santos I found myself in the old mansion where he was living rent free and saw that he was also talking on his cell phone to the guy that owned the place, a movie maker originally from India. Santos was finalizing plans to go somewhere with him the next day in the same vicinity in San Francisco where his Aunt Deana lived, my youngest sister. Santos had decided to accompany Lev who would drop him off coming and going to a business meeting with some of the people who had engaged him to make a documentary. This was a good opportunity for Santos to explore any possibilities of earning more than just his room and utilities, working for Lev. He had gone to film school, but he was having a hard time making a living at it, for sure.
I wished I could drop in on Santos' son, my grandson Santee, as he was called, but I didn't really know how to find him. I would have to try to overhear news about him as Santos talked to people on his cell phone.
I wondered if I ought not to hop in the car when Santos and his landlord Lev were riding north, but I was afraid Santos might think I was snooping even if he did not know about it. I was still not comfortable listening in on conversations I knew I would never have been privy to when I was alive. I would have to feel the need to be more of a detective before I could be a dedicated eavesdropper.
I decided to get to Deana's on my own and I would be there when Santos dropped in and could get in on a few of the laughs and good times. It would be good for Santos to see his aunt and his cousin, her daughter, Lianna. They had always got along well. Her son, Eric, a few years younger, was Santos best pal while they were growing up. They were like brothers.
I had sensed that Santos was going to catch a break, and hearing he had a chance to take a trip with Lev, I was sure this was an opportunity. It would be a good time to impress Lev with his need for something to keep body and soul together and maybe fulfill a little bit of his dream to be a movie maker. But Lev knew lots and lots of desperately poor people in India I was sure, so he was not going to go out of his way help spoiled young Americans, but he must have liked Santos and Eric or he wouldn't still be friends with them. They had a small history of interaction, and Eric was good at never letting a connection die. He was always renewing and refreshing his ties to people who might come in handy in the movie making business.
Becoming a movie maker was a very tough goal as Eric and Santos had long since found out.
Yes, next was a trip to San Francisco. I was determined! I had never gone that far away alone as a spirit. I didn't know but what I ought to ask Coral to go with me, as Deana was her sister, too, and she had surely been to visit her in the 69 years since she had passed. Deana had been only two or three years old when Coral left us.
Deana's symbol for Coral in her dreams was a butterfly. I thought that was lovely. She had spent so many years as a spirit, you might say she led a truly butterfly existence. What was Deanna's symbol for me? I had forgotten. I know her own was an elephant, and my sister Deborah's symbol was a swan. Romina's was a deer. I couldn't remember Marsha's. Maybe I was a lioness since I had been born in July. I just could not think what I was. I needed to find out as I would probably be appearing as that animal in Deana's dreams right about now. She had probably already picked up my portending visit to her fair city.
Oh, I could hardly wait. Coral and I could have such a good time in San Francisco! Just following Deana around was a trip. Maybe we could even get in on the revolution Deana was always talking about!
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