I had been dreaming that I was having a meal with a group of people. We were listening to music (for some reason, I am thinking it was “Don’t Stop Thinking about Tomorrow”), and I was indulging in singing snatches of the song. I was impressed that I sounded good, given how bad my voice is and how badly I typically sing. Suddenly, someone said, “I wish you wouldn’t sing all the time.” I pointed out that I wasn’t singing all the time, just snatches, and someone else backed me up in this. But then I woke up — sobbing. Depressed, betrayed, like I had hit bottom. I could not take in how awful life had become.

That will teach me to sing at dinner . . .