Early in the summer I dreamt my son was dying. My perfect, beautiful boy. I was helpless, aware even in my subconscious that this was too much. My own desperation jolted me awake. I opened my eyes and heard myself saying, “I cannot do this.” I blinked and looked around the dark room. My heart was pounding, my breath shallow and fast. “It’s ok,” I told myself. “It was a dream. He’s ok. He’s not…