My mother, facing expiration, has begun a philosophical examination of her life. She's entered a phase the hospice nurse labeled "terminal restlessness," and her utter exhaustion is all the more understandable as we watch her fitful sleep. This sleep, and what occurs during it, has become her reality, dramatically impacting her cognition.

Last weekend, she asked me who was on the cover of the magazine I was reading. I hesitated because we'd been down this road, and her perspective is .... unusual. ... But then I told her. "Volodymyr Zelenskyy." She rolled her eyes and said, "That idiot!" My husband's jaw dropped. I looked at him and shrugged. My guess is that Zelenskyy has been making unwelcome appearances in my mother's vivid dreams.

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