She doesn't know this man on the other end of the phone – she doesn't know her own name right now – but the longer he speaks to her, the more she wishes she did. She wishes she knew him, wishes she knew who she was, hopes that she just might be the woman he's describing.
For the first time, she feels something – maybe even something for him – and she wishes they could talk face to face. But they can't… because he's dying… and part of her feels like dying right along with him. After all what's life without knowing what matters?