The relationship between my mother, sister and me had been cold and inimical for as long as I could remember.

To me, my mother was irrational, often hurling hurtful invectives for the slightest infraction. My sister, five years my senior, seemed not to have a brain in her head. Tammy dithered about everything, incapable of making any firm decision. No matter how often my mother deprecated her -- “dumb, ugly, fat”—Tammy made futile attempts to fawn her way back into mother’s good graces.

My father would pontificate, “You three are more alike then you know.”

In April of 2000, my mother kicked us both out of the house. (Dad had been exiled many years before.)

My sister and I went our separate ways. It was then that I began having recurring dreams.

In one, I am running to catch up with a woman. Each time I get near, I trip and fall. Another woman comes with great alacrity and offers her hand, but when I reach to grab it, she disappears.

In another, a female professor hands me a test. Although I have spent hours studying for it, I know none of the answers. The professor derides me for my poor performance.

These dreams were not hard to understand. In fact they were pellucid , and absent any knowledge of dream interpretation, I was still able to devise their significance. I knew that they both reflected the pugnacious relationship I shared with my mother and sister.

However, there was one dream I could never quite construe. I bite into an apple. All of my teeth fall out. I had this dream far more than any of the others.

Years later, in an effort to heal our fractious relationship, Mom, Tammy and I would elect to go to counseling together. After several sessions, I tell my dream about teeth tumbling out of my head.

“My God,” said my mother. “I’ve had the exact same dream many times.”

“Me too,” said Tammy solemnly.

Breakthrough? No idea. But I was reminded of the words of my now-dead father. Perhaps the three of us are more alike than we know.