Last night, or rather this morning, just before I woke up, I dreamed that I was staying in an apartment in London, where my sister, Gayle, and her family were living at the time. Their children were still young. The time was near for me to return home, and I was gathering my belongings together and trying to work out whether I had time to cram in a couple of activities, like going to a play or visiting a museum before I left, but I was having such difficulty organizing my stuff that nothing like that seemed possible, which frustrated me quite a bit in my dream.
When I awakened, I thought my sister was still alive, and then I realized that she was gone. Bummer! What a start to the day. I have tears in my eyes as I type these words.
Prospero:The photo above is of Gayle during our trip to London a good many years ago. We were visiting the Tower.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
The Tempest Act 4, scene 1, 148–158
