Sleeping in the funeral home above the morgue turned out to be really cool. The night I moved in, there were actually no dead bodies, but I could not quite shake the nervousness in my stomach. I imagined I was staying in my own motel room and so the night passed smoothly. My nightly prayers took on more urgency then they probably did most nights back then.

On the second night staying in the mortician's apartment, I had a dream that a dead body was being moved into the funeral home. Suddenly there was a loud crash. I bolted upright, my heart racing. I heard voices. One of the voices uttered an oath because apparently, while moving a body into the morgue, it had been dropped on the floor. "Mrs. Wilson's not gonna to be too happy about this!," I heard one of the voices say.

The dream seemed so real! I inquired from Mr. McDonald whether any "guests" had moved into the funeral home the night before. I was informed that there were two. I imagined the theme to the "Twilight Zone" in my 14 year old head.

Today, Cathleen and I were visiting Centerville. Could it be possible that Bill McDonald was still running McDonald Funeral Home? Cathleen and I figured out that the McDonald Funeral Home was just off the main square. Soon I was anxiously hopping out the car with Cathleen trying to keep up. Inside the funeral home an young women greeted us pleasantly and an older man stood behind her. He asks in a friendly voice what they could do to help us. I grinned from ear to ear and said that I was looking for Bill McDonald. I quickly explained that I was revisiting the town we had stayed in 25 years before as we were walking from California to Virginia. I was soon on the phone talking to Bill himself!