"You have an opportunity to meet His Holiness the Pope."
But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't clearly see the man's face; it felt like it was covered in a grayish mist.
Of course, none of that mattered. As a devout believer of the Lord, being able to meet His representative on earth was the most glorious thing in Barton's life.
He was so thrilled he could barely speak. Trembling slightly, he followed the bishop step by step into the grand hall.
Barton couldn't describe the hall in detail either. He only knew it was magnificent and imposing, so overwhelming that he could only obediently bow his head.
Finally, he reached the steps.
At that moment, he felt as if he had been given permission, and he instinctively raised his head.
Then he saw a large golden dog.
The dog wore a magnificent deep blue robe like a curtain, a triple crown inlaid with many jewels, and sat on a huge throne, silently staring at him.
"..." Barton was stunned.
"Th-this is His Holiness the Pope?" He was shocked and frightened, and a strong fear surged in his heart.
He abruptly opened his eyes and saw the morning light illuminating the ceiling.
Huff, huff... He sat up, catching his breath, trying to quickly shake off the effects of the dream.
"What happened?" his wife noticed something was wrong and sat up.
Barton shook his head.
"Just a nightmare."
He didn't tell his wife the truth—that he had dreamed the Pope was a golden dog.
He was sure she would say in horror, "How can you have such blasphemous thoughts?"
Then he could only shrug and say, "Just a joke."
He couldn't bring his worries into family life; home was a paradise to relax the mind. Besides, women had trouble understanding complex issues; their strengths were sensitivity and compassion. Barton stopped thinking about his dream, rolled out of bed, and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
After breakfast, he kissed his wife and child goodbye, left the house, and took a horse-drawn omnibus to his workplace on the edge of the city.