She said in her letter to me, “I found myself in a dream talking to a friend that I knew well. His name is Jack. I said to Jack, ‘Well, Jack, I thought you died.’ He said, ‘No, it was my wife who died.’” Then in another dream soon after she found herself in the world of dream talking to one she knew in high school, one of her flames, and they were discussing in the same lovely old way, reminiscing, and it seemed—she capitalized the whole thing—SO NATURAL, SO NORMAL. And yet I knew I hadn’t seen him since 1940. But many years ago my mother wrote me that he had died.”118 ¶38