“I understand,” Myron said. “I hope you do, my friend.” Calvin looked up at the numbered lights. The lights flickered in his brown eyes. “Dreams never die. Sometimes you think they’re dead, but they’re just hibernating like some big old bear. And if the dream has been hibernating for a long time, that bear is going to wake up grumpy and hungry.” “You should write country songs,” Myron said. Calvin shook his head. “Just giving a friend fair warning.”
