I said, "I'm a bit concerned, the prophet says, Your wife will become a prostitute in the city." She stopped, a bit miffed. "Memories tend to flatten over time." I agreed. "This all sounds like a thoughtless wish for an empty bedroom." She added, "Or a famine of hearing the words of g*d." I realized, once again, "A large part of my joy is not being where I am supposed to be when I am supposed to be there. Wherever there may be." She smiled and said, "Welcome to the other side of popping into a reality not your own."