I dreamt last night that I wandered a theater lobby, and through open doors I could see a rehearsal was taking place. Then, looking at the cast up on the stage, I saw my cousin Herb Edelman* was running lines, and realized that somehow, I’d gone back in time!

It was 1996, and Herb was still alive.

So I walked toward the stage, and when Herb spotted me, he smiled. I told him I’d come from the future, which didn’t seem to bother him. Hey, it was a dream, so we both accepted that as fact, and didn’t worry about the how. We sat on the floor behind the last row of empty seats, and chatted. Eventually, I asked him a question which has always puzzled me in real life.

There was a time in my teen years when I was uncertain whether I wanted to pursue the life of an actor or writer. I ended up opting for writer for a variety of reasons**, but years later, it occurred to me that since I was related to a working actor, I could have, you know, asked him for advice. But I never did. But why not?

Herb’s response to this question was:

“Well, you were crazy.”

To which I said:

“I’m still crazy. I just present well.”

As we parted, he told me I should come see him in the play that night, but I had to decline, because whatever rules had brought me back in time were about to force me to return. I could’t stay

I then left the theater in tears, knowing what he didn’t — that 1996 would be the year he died.

And then I woke up.

* Yes, Herb Edelman was my cousin in real life—my father’s father’s brother’s son. Which makes him either my second cousin or first cousin once removed, depending on how you track these things.

** I think I’ve shared these reasons here before, though since I can’t find the post in which I did, perhaps I haven’t. If not, I’ll explain it all in the future!