I dreamt that I was traveling with my mother and my No. 1 son. He was about ten in my dream. I do not remember where we were going, but we were traveling by train. We were in a sleeping car, where we had an enormous compartment all to ourselves. At some point we came to a large station, where the train stopped for half an hour. We went out to see the station. I returned to our compartment to fetch something, but I found the door open. There were three or four people sitting on our beds. “I am sorry,” I told them at once, “but you must leave this compartment at once.” I was getting angry fast, and so I went out to the platform for a short while. When I returned, a young man was still sitting there. “You must leave at once,” I raised my voice, “for this compartment is already occupied!” In his early twenties, he would not move, though. He started saying something about the size of the compartment that could take a large number of people. For him, this was a matter of elementary justice. “Tough,” I yelled, “but this is the compartment I got for my mother, my son, and me!” And then he got up and picked up his luggage. As he was shuffling toward the door, he started talking about an illness that he was fighting tooth and nail. It was a nasty cancer, if I remember correctly. He was talking as if to himself, but his words affected me very strongly. And very quickly. “Give me your hand,” I said gently. As we shook hands by the compartment door, I was fighting tears. This is all I remember of the dream, but I was kind of annoyed with myself when I woke up. “Sentimental creep,” I growled.