This is what I remember today of a dream I had about 34 years ago. It's about our friend Pam. As in Alison Pauline Hunter, and it accrued to me several days after she died in a plane crash. Her plane, a big PSA commercial jet, descending over San Diego, had clipped a small private plane and there were no survivors. No survivors except all the people who loved all the people who died. Pam was in our kitchen and it was early morning and the sun was bright oming through our kitchen window and she was talking, in her animated way about her own death and what had happened after she died. I remember that her arms were bare and that she hugged herself as if she had a chill and she said, My God, they had to send my teeth to Boston for ex rays. They had to compare my teeth with my old dental records. It's horrible. And my poor parents. And then the there was a shift in my dream and it was later and she was telling me how odd it was to be in stores now and pass by the registers and not have to pay. You don't pay. It's just so strange. She said. And then there was another shift, and we were still at our house, our house on Red Bud lane, and it was evening now and there as a kind of party going on. And the house was dark with shadows. And people were begging to leave, beginning to drift off in different directions and I wondered where Pam was. And I found her in a corner. A dark corner by herself and she was quiet and withdrawn. And I kissed her. I put my lips to hers and her lips hardly moved at all but her breath came into me. Something passed into me and I felt, It is over. It is over now.