The saddest dreams are always the ones that stick with you when you wake up.

On Sunday, I dreamed that my mother- at 43 years old I suppose- gave birth to two twin boys- Carl and Luke.

I was given the chance to hold one of the baby boys, but the other twin had, I am guessing, died.

Both twin boys went on the pass away, and I can remember crying, crying so very much for these two little boys that did not get a chance to live and to grow and to be loved.

I can remember listening to a girl complain about something trivial ( in my dream), and I turned around and yelled at her “That is nothing- my baby brothers are DEAD! Babies aren’t supposed to DIE!”

And I guess, in a way, this is very true. Babies aren’t supposed to die- it is so wrong…and yet it has happened to so many of us. It’s not fair, but I guess, in a way, it is life. And a cold, harsh reality.