There was a young woman handling my crotch in an assumed intimacy that I found disturbing. Someone I knew well kept morphing between my third daughter and my first granddaughter. Maybe they were both with me, or maybe they took turns checking on me. The granddaughter excitedly told me that so-and-so was having her baby but I was not able to follow who so-and-so was, but apparently some relative, or descendent of mine. I decided I wanted to make a call to someone. I was going to make the call to my daughter’s grandmother then remembered she was deceased. Then I was going to call my husband’s mother then remembered she also was deceased. Then I decided to call my husband. The cell phone seemed swollen and misshapen. I couldn’t find any of the familiar prompts. I still remembered his phone number and tried to enter it into the phone but the phone started playing a movie. I became distraught. My daughter tried to help me, then some unknown male tried to help. I told my daughter I had Alzheimer’s and she was stuck caring for me. Then I awakened realizing the weight of what I had just dreamed.
The body slips away and we can’t stop it. The mug shot I took of myself yesterday looks a lot like my mother. She transitioned and so will I, right behind her. And like the John Lennon song says, “The love you take is equal to the love you make!”