April 22, 1967
The dreams have grown stranger and more insistent. Scared to sleep for fear of them. Told Cora and Doug I need to see the doctor. Hate to lie, but if I didn’t go today I’d go mad tomorrow.
All doubt vanished when I saw the house. Beatrice took my hands as I walked through the door—“I knew you’d come back.” Cried with joy. The solution to all my problems is here. I knew it all along.
Everywhere in the house, young men and women passed, holding hammers or shears or buckets, off to mend the roof or weed the garden or touch up the paint. A few young women did the laundry in the yard, talking and laughing, while one hung the clothes up on the line. Men and women, ink smudged on their hands and faces, worked feverishly in the print room, setting type for this week’s issue of th
