BRIGHT ONE
NAOMI
Wonder Tummy gave me weird dreams from day one. I’d always had nightmares when I was stressed, anyway, not that being pregnant and homeless and hallucinating could possibly be stressful. I woke up at four-thirty a.m., some twelve hours after Damon did not get in the elevator with me, and took my customary several seconds to figure out where I was and what was real. Lately the ol’ psyche’s favorite nocturnal torment was kittens. Kittens, of course, are wonderful—once they have fur and ears and look like kittens. My cat Luna had kittens when I was fourteen, and it was disgusting. The ones in my dream were even worse. Slimy pink squirming things, crying piteously, that I knew I ought to help and love but I only wanted to run far away from them. And they were coming out of m
