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The Whole Story Is About a Blank

So I had this dream about the Holocaust. A group of women were escaping but one refused to leave until her daughter, who was too sick to leave, died. The young girl kept throwing off her blanket, then getting cold. The young girl's skin looked like a black chrysalis. The mother kept pulling the blanket back over her. Everyone was urgently pleading for the mother to leave but she wouldn't. She stayed there until her daughter was dead. 

Flash forward to present day. I am with a friend, Tina. We are with a large group of people in a Central European cafe. It is famous because it is the cafe where the escapees hid during the war. I am at a table arguing ethics with a group of Germans. Tina is sitting at another table under a large plaque, listening with amusement to my futile arguments. The plaque commemorates the escapees. There is one line near the end that says, "The mother finally pulled the blanket over her daughter with ****." I think for a while about which words can go there. Then, I turn to Tina and say, "you know there's a word for that." And she asks me what I mean. I say, "not the possible words, but a word for that missing word." 

Then it seems like an inside joke and we both smile because it's a blank and the whole story is about a blank-et. 

And it seems a long time before, she and I talked about all of this.