My daughter is an only child. She often played alone. As a child, her toys would be out. And she would be having these conversations with her dolls. Or, so I thought. I learned that the ‘person’ she had been talking to had a name. His name was Michael, her maginary friend. While this was happening I attributed it to being a normal part of childhood development. My mother, however, was alarmed.

She is older now. She describes him as having had dirty blonde hair, always wore shorts and always carried a blanket around. A security blanket I imagine. That’s when they were both little.

Not so very long ago he visited her in a dream. This was when she was in her late twenties, she said. Two old friends who hadn’t see each other in a good while. To the point of almost not recognizing each other. But they…