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Where is the line between what’s real and what’s just the wispy figment of dreams?

For years, I’ve dreamed about meeting a woman and a little girl at an underground train station. One of them — the woman, I believe — is wearing a solid red coat. Her daughter’s coat is either black or gray. They’re meeting me here, but I’ve never known why.

In the last week, I’ve dreamed about that station twice, for the first time in a long time. But there was something entirely different this time. In the dream, I was in my own house — not the modest house where I live now, but a grander house — and I heard a woman’s voice call to me from behind a wall.

I reached out with my hands and broke through the wall — ridiculous, of course — and discovered a secret stone stairway that led to a lower level. When I followed the stairs, I came out on a giant abandoned train platform. It was the same one from my old dreams.

This train station I’d seen for years was hidden under my own home. And the woman was there, too.

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Nobody ever thinks he or she will end up in a love-less marriage, much less an abusive relationship with serious physical abuse. So why do so many people end up with partners who are either abusive or who can’t provide what they really need?

Much of it is because we are so desperate for love when we’re seeking love that we’re easily fooled by love’s closest counterfeit — and that counterfeit love is always toxic in the end.

Preview of new week’s show: We often act as though we have forever to do the things we want to do in life, and we act we though we have forever to fix the relationships we’ve broken that we hope to repair one day.

My father taught me that. He had three children who once adored him. He had three different women who had loved him dearly over the years. But when he died, he was alone. The tragedy of his life is that he couldn’t repair the relationships he had destroyed. We’ll take a look at why we often delay repairing the relationships we need — and what we can do about it — next week on Love and Hope.

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A man pulled up in a white SUV and got out at a fresh grave. There was a funeral tent that covered both the grave and the collection of flowers that were obviously new.

The man didn’t look at me and didn’t seem to pay attention to anything else. His suit was what we might have once called his “Sunday best.” He looked somber and his only thoughts seemed to focus on a hole in the dirt where a loved one had been placed to rest today.

All of as sudden, I felt as though I was intruding just by being in the cemetery. I was there to take sunset photos, but this stark hill suddenly seemed more like a sanctuary or at least sacred ground.

I was about a hundred feet from the man and I remained quiet and still. After he stood next to the grave for a few minutes, he got back into his SUV and slowly drove off. As I stood there in the stillness — as it got darker and darker — I found myself disturbed that I had no idea whose body had been laid to rest in that hole.

And that felt completely wrong.

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