Evenings often found Kola dozing peacefully near Grandma Kay’s chair, the quiet rhythm of her breathing or the gentle vibrations of her presence a comforting backdrop. As he slept, his paws would twitch, his whiskers quiver, and soft, muffled yips escaped his snout – clear signs of a vivid dream world. Grandma might look down from her own quiet repose, observing his movements, and murmur, "Look at that little doggie dreaming. Are you dreaming about treats? Of course you are. You're a good doggie." Her words, unheard, were a loving interpretation of his restless sleep.
And treats were certainly on the menu in Kola’s silent dream world. While the waking world sometimes brought confusing visual signals or moments of perceived scarcity (seeing the treat container put away, interpreting "All gone!" from her expression), Kola's dreamland was a place of pure, uncomplicated abundance. Here, rivers flowed with savory gravy, fields were dotted with cheese cubes like wildflowers, and squeaky toys (felt through imagined vibrations, perhaps?) grew on trees.
In these dreams, there was no need to watch hopefully for a visual cue near the refrigerator or puzzle over gestures. Dream-Grandma Kay, always smiling and clear in his mind's eye, presided over magnificent feasts laid out just for him. He'd run through dream-fields, chasing phantom squirrels made of bacon, his legs young and strong again. He'd leap and visually track every perfectly tossed biscuit. It was a simple, joyful world built from his purest desires: endless food, endless play, and the unwavering, happy visual presence of his beloved Grandma. He'd wake with a soft sigh, stretching contentedly, the blissful memory of his dream feast a comforting counterpoint to the quiet, visual reality of their shared life.
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