Ever since I was a kid back in New Orleans, I've been a dreamer. And I'm so thankful, having been able to make so many my dreams come true. Of course, losing weight and keeping it off tops my dreams-come-true list. Thank you, dear Lord, for giving me the wisdom and strength to make that one come true. But here, in my adult years, (and yes, I do act like an adult sometimes), I'm often haunted by a dream that I just can't seem to shake. (Actually, it's more like a nightmare.) It always begins the same way. I'm sitting at a table in a big hotel ballroom. You know the type. It's one of those giant rooms you'd see at a big convention hotel. (And with all of my travels, I've seen a lot of rooms like this.) Oh, it's adorned with fancy, gold-embroidered drapes. There's a big crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and the floor is filled with lots of tables and chairs. Hmmm, looks like someone has set the room up for a big dinner. Suddenly, all of the chairs at my table are filled with people. In fact, as I look around, I see lots of familiar faces at this big event. Oh, look, there's Rose! I remember her. She wrote me a 10-page letter back in 1982 when I was still doing The Richard Simmons Show. Rose was morbidly obese. She wrote and told me how she'd become like a prisoner in her own home. You see, Rose's weight had gotten so out of control that she was now house bound. Bless her heart, she was barely able to even get out of bed. I even flew to Rose's hometown to visit her a couple of times and, sadly, on one of those trips I had to visit her in a rehabilitation hospital. Hi Rose, it's really good to see you again, sweetie!