There was a very brief period when I passionately wished I could have her back. It’s been so long that I have trouble remembering when it was. Maybe a dozen years ago? I’m not sure.
I no longer think about her very often — although I’ve written about her before — but I dreamed about her Tuesday night. I have no idea why. As I thought about the dream right after I woke up this morning, my first thought was, “Be careful what you wish for, David.”
In the dream, I still lived in the townhome where I lived for about 20 years in another Birmingham suburb. We had just married and she had moved in with me — but it felt more like a nightmare than a dream.
The narrative was less about her than it was about what she was doing to the space in which I lived. It felt very symbolic of something dark and dangerous going on in my mind and heart.

At life’s end, who we’ve loved will matter more than what we’ve owned
When will you admit that a constitution can’t control state?
AUDIO: We rarely realize we’re wasting our lives ’til it’s too late
Visit from his dead parents shook father’s disbelief in supernatural
In the old Ginger or Mary Ann debate, I wanted a third choice
If romantic love is mental illness, do many of us want to be cured?
Unexpected proposal leaves me pondering my craving to be loved
What if a key to knowing what to do is built into everybody’s gut?