1936

Before I can say anything in greeting, he says, "You are going to be needing an escort.  You are being surveilled."  He is tall, towering and so resplendent in his robe of emerald green and gold.  Even though I am not sure if he can fit, "Tron, please ride in the car with us."  He smiles then gestures ahead, and there is a white horse standing, watching us by the road.  It is decked in a saddle of red and yellow and blue embroidery.  Tron approaches his steed and the horse is every bit as huge as he is lithe and graceful.   Like a police horse on steroids.  Gingerly, Tron mounts the horse and rides off ahead, just ahead of us. As we are following horse and rider Carl says, "Um...why did you stop and who were you just speaking to?" "Tron...from the refuge...Didn't you just see him?  He's riding ahead, our escort, he is on his white horse." "It's just some random dude on his mountain bike." "Erik, did you see someone just now?" "A guy on a bike." Kenny says, "It is Tron and that is his horse, Ráfaga.  It seems only Chris and I could see him, and that could be the will of our lord..." "You saw him too", say I.  "What is he wearing." "His green and gold robes." "What colour is his horse?" "White.  Big and beautiful." "Describe the saddle.." "It's beautiful. It looks like Guatemalan embroidery: red, yellow and blue.  In fact the name of the horse, Ráfaga, is a Spanish word for strong and sudden gust of wind." And now I can feel my heart leap into my throat with the wild and wonderful discovery that finally, in no one else but my old and dear friend, Kenny, now resurrected from the dead, I have someone who shares with me those visions that have caused me so many problems in the past...