Last night, my father spoke to me in a dream.

He recalled the time he produced a TV show in Chicago. The host snickered at him: "Well, nobody can be as perfect as you are, right?"

Bristling from the remark, I recall thinking my dad must have been rebuked in public.

"Did he say that on the air?"

"Yes, he did" my dad winced, still feeling bruised by this episode, several decades later.

"Gee, my dad was sensitive to criticism!" I noted, still dreaming.

Then it hit me.

"So am I!"

This was far too provocative to pursue in the ether, so I awoke and meditated on this theme in the pre-dawn shadows.

I went back and forth with pros and cons. Is sensitivity to criticism such a bad thing?

Yes, I argued. You need a thick skin to get what you can out of life. If you're overly sensitive, nearly any unkind or untrue remark can send you reeling.

Then I reversed gears.

But if criticism bothers you it means you're actually listening to other people, you care about their opinions, and you want to be successful in getting along and working as a team.

Don't we call people that are utterly insensitive and completely callous brutes, outlaws and sociopaths? Connecting with people is good, and being aware of how you're coming across has survival value.

We need people and they need us. And criticism can be valuable, if we choose to interpret it, constructively.

I debated the matter to a stalemate, and when I was finished I didn't know which argument had more merit.

What I was left with was the fact that my dad opened-up and shared his feelings about a difficult time in his life, and I commiserated.

Glad I could be there for him!