Dear Linda, I'm sorry that when you called me, from a Restricted number, at 4:00 in the morning, that I wouldn't tell you my last name. I may have been a bit short with you when I told you that you could not reach someone called "Diane" in my bedroom. Thank you for pulling me out of the nightmare I was having, which included a friend falling asleep dangerously with a joint in her hand and a disabled West Indian woman who kept trying to get out of her wheelchair. However, your blunt request for my name did inspire some disbelief, and I hope you understand my cranky response, "Who is THIS?" Your claim that "this number is in [your] phone" and your lack of satisfaction with my grudging release of my first name only did surprise me, the request for further identification coming as it did at 4:00 in the morning. When I brusquely told you so, you quietly said that you understood and hung up, leaving me to stare sleeplessly at the ceiling, wondering about your story, and also my dream.  ¶ 10:21 AM