Author’s Note Novels are never really about what they are about. At least for this writer. Dream Count is, yes, about the interlinked desires of four women, but, in a deeply personal way not obvious, at least not immediately so, to the reader, it is really about my mother. About losing my mother. A grief still stubbornly in infancy, its so-called stages not so much begun as utterly irrelevant, its contours intact and untouched—the confusion and disbelief, the myriad regrets.
