Last night, I had dream where an old man handed me an impossibly small and beautiful glass bottle and told me that there was one label left and that he would like me to write some words on the label and then he would affix the label to the bottle; and that together, the bottle and the label and the words would stand as a testament to his long love for his wife.
“Go ahead,” said the man. “Write what you think is good.”
The wife suddenly appeared beside the man, smiling, nodding.
I bent over the label. My hand was shaking.
The woman put her hand on top of mine. “Any words you can think of are good,” she said. “It has been such a beautiful time.”
I don’t know what words I wrote for the old couple. I can’t remember.
But in the dream, I believed so much in their love and in their happiness, that I woke up happy, too.

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