I dreamt that I was talking about my mother. I do not remember who it was I was talking to, but I was sort of bragging. My mother was the best in the world. Her age somehow came up, and I said that she was ninety-one already. “She’ll be ninety-two later this year,” I added proudly. In my dream, she was very much alive and so well that death was not even in the cards. And then I switched to my aunt Aurora, my mother’s elder sister. “She’ll be ninety-six this year!” I boasted. I went on and on about my aunt, who was always such a great fun to be with. My enthusiasm was punctured as soon as I woke up in the middle of the night, though. My mother was ninety when she died in 2001. Would that she lived a few years longer. And my aunt Aurora was only seventy-seven when she died in 1983. If I remember correctly, she was four years older than my mother. Feeling sorely disappointed with my mother and her sister, I had hard time falling asleep again.