Mary is lying on a couch or bed. She is wearing a nightgown and is covered by a comforter. She is sick and dying. But she is not yet at the advanced stage of the illness because she is not exceedingly thin. Although she is bald and wears a wig, she has good skin color. I can't see her face clearly because her back is toward me. I try to cradle her in my arms and hold her tight, but she pulls away from me and says something about her being "unfuckable." When I hear this, it makes me cry. I assure her that I love her very dearly and that our not having sex doesn't matter to me. In another part of the dream I am going somewhere and doing "things," but I am very much aware of -- and very preoccupied with -- the knowledge that Mary is at home and is very sick. I am very hopeful that she is not going to die, but don't know on what I base this hope. There is a scene in this dream where I am writing names on a Bulletin Board and I'm careful to write only Anglo-Saxon names, preferably names having Irish origins.