In our culture, we say that if you have a bad dream about someone, it means that the person about whom you dreamed ate too much.

Two nights ago I had the worst dream about my mother. She was in a coma and I was at her bedside. I was talking to her, telling her about me, about what my hopes and dreams and fears and the doctor heard me. He came in and said “She can hear you, but when the words get into her brain, they get jumbled, so she catches every word, but not in the right order so she doesn’t really know what you are saying.” I sat down and cried and in my dream I kept saying “please, God, I just need some more time. Please let me have more time.” I was so sad, heartbroken, desparate. As I was waking up, there was a voice in my head – off in the distance somewhere – saying “there is never more time. Never.” Time is a thief. This second is here. Now its gone. There is no more time.

I woke up and knew what I had to do. Get out of this job. Do what I need to do for myself, and for my family. For my future. There is no more time.

Then I called my mother. It was 8:00 am on a Sunday, and that woman likes her sleep. I asked if she’d gone out to some relative’s house the night before and she said “Yes, and you know what??? I ate soooo much. Then, I came home and your father and I ate ice cream and cookies at midnight. I thought, so much for going to the gym.”

So I told her that her gluttony is giving me nightmares and could she please use moderation next time.