About a week ago, I had a riveting dream and wanted to tell you about it.
I was walking across this vast property, with a lake glistening behind an outdoor grotto, on an 80 degree, ‘buttery, baby-blue-sky kind-of-day', with poufy pillow clouds framing the streams of sun as they brushed my face. I'm sure you know the kind of day I'm describing.
The next thing that happens, I’m talking to a man, who looks a little like Gerald Ford, and this is the summarized version of what he said to me, “I’m the second richest man in the world and this is my property, I’m dying of cancer, and I have no idea how much time I have left.”
And as I say that, I look around at all of the staff who encircle us working and playing, people he's clearly taken good care of and even in this moment of our conversation,...