I believe in the power of numbers. I don’t know when my belief in numbers began. Perhaps when I was a child. My high school dropout, bookkeeper dad came home each week to tell us that he had played the numbers — my neighborhood’s equivalent of lotto but lots more complex.
Dad would convert every thought and dream to a number with help from his trusty dream book. You had a dream about mice? Consult the book. “That’s a 12, 17 or 21. What was the mouse doing — climbing out of a garbage can? Well climbing is a 21, 34, or 42 and garbage is a 17, 39, or 32. So, let’s play 12 and 21 (the reverse of each other), 17 (it appeared twice), and 34, the year your mom was born.”