GHOSTS
I dreamt about my sister, dead these many years. It seemed she was in a place of ghosts. In my dream I put my face up to hers and kissed her cheek
and said, “I’ll always be your sister.” But she turned her face away and closed her eyes. Her cheek was cold.
I said, “Do you want me to take you away, dear? Come, come! Let us go!” But she only looked sad and didn’t speak.
My son was with me but in my dream he was a young boy. I mean, my son at seven, not the way he is now. He was impatient with my sighs and tears and wanted to get away from that place. He was
bored.
I gave him a pencil and told him, “Draw!” He took the pencil obediently. He drew. But it seemed to cost him great effort.
Now and then I would peep at what he was drawing: a series of empty rectangles. I asked him, “W
