In living room are my mother, Faye, and I. My mother is sitting in a chair (or standing in front of it part of time) on east side of room. She is facing west. She is wrapped in a big, light colored shawl. I am sitting on north end of couch. facing my mother. (Faye's position uncertain). My mother, standing up, says, "It was hard to see me die," which I believe to mean that her great age (she seems to be about 100) makes it impossible for her long to survive her present illness. Faye walks over to her, and gently pushes her back into her chair. I am watching her face closely for signs of a stroke or fainting spell, as I seem to be resigned to the certainty that she can live only a very short time -- and in fact, she might drop dead any instant. My mother explains that the serious trouble (which made her sure she was soon to die) began the previous evening at the supper table, when she was unable to eat a certain article which with 2 other kinds of food constituted her regular meals. The article referred to was a kind of light bread (much raised), shaped something like the roof of a house. Another had symptoms was an extreme stiffness which she felt on waking the next morning.