Lately, I keep hearing my mother calling my name. It makes no sense. I will actually stop short stunned in what I am doing. It intervenes whatever task. I will think she expects me to answer or go to her and start to—until that part of my mind that addresses logic instantly throws cold water at me. It has happened more than just once or twice. In fact, it’s been happening a lot and at various locations. She had different ways of saying my name, different tones where her pitch would rise at the end, like a kind of opera howl or another where she is using her coaxing to entreat me to go somewhere with her; and this too has varied in these instances where it seems she is calling me