The Columnist Manifesto

My mom died a couple of years ago, but when she turns up in my dreams, as she did last night, she's quite lively. But there's a desperate, doomed feel about our dream interaction, as if I know (though this isn't part of the dream story line) that our moments together are numbered. It's an overlay of sadness that's tolerable, but just barely.

How lucky that we don't normally feel this way about our interactions with our live friends and loved ones -- even though our days together are numbered too.