I dreamt this a month or two ago, but it has popped into my mind again. In my dream, my widow (and, yes, it is a particular woman I am friends with whom I will leave nameless, although trust me it isn’t who you think, whomever you are thinking of)—she is with my son in some park. (Childhood memories make me want to think that it is Griffith Park. Or maybe the La Brea Tar Pits.) It’s kind of a haunting idea. Imagine, if I actually eventually fell in love and got married and had a kid, only to die at an early age. Well. My mom always teased me that because I have small ears, that I would have a short life. And I have already had a very cinematic dream of my death scene (which I might narrate in this space sometime if I haven’t already.) Not that I believe in prophecies or anything. Trust me. My foresight has always missed the marked.