In January, 2016, my 94-year-old mom, Ruby, fell in her bathroom in Tucson, Arizona. A blood clot traveled from her hip, still bruised and sore from two falls the previous week, to her brain, causing a massive stroke.  Minutes after the ambulance crew wheeled Mom into the hospital, my brother, John, who’d moved to Tucson…

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Suddenly, I awoke from a dream: I look through my sheer living room curtains. Barry’s BMW and my Hyundai sit side by side in the darkened garage. The streetlight shining in front of our house illuminates a man between our cars walking toward our house. He doesn’t look threatening. I don’t know him. I’d recognize…

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Dreams are today’s answers to tomorrow’s questions. –Edgar Cayce Did you ever dream about insignificant things that actually happened later?  I once dreamed that a plastic planter hanging from a tree outside my window broke and the plant inside it splattered on the ground. The next morning, the planter fell.  Sometimes, I wake up from…

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Barry’s nickname, Ashtar the Magnificent, came about because of his psychic—he called it psycho—ability. I only had to be in the same room with him to feel better.  I wrote briefly about falling in love with my partner Barry 13 years after Vic died (a coworker hunk I’d secretly been in love with), toward the…

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Living in the countryside of central Spain in the early sixties felt magical for 8-year-old me. I still remember our home address: Patrocinio (he who gives his protection), Gomez (man) Tres (three), Canillejas (a region 5 miles northeast of Madrid). Although roving bands of gypsies traveled in tattered wagons through the countryside, these fast-change artists…

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