Tag Archives: Transitions

When my mother died twenty-eight years ago I was living two blocks from the explosion on Thursday in the East Village. On Thursday afternoon, while fires raged and the first building collapsed, I was dreaming about my mother. I had been up since 4am, and had taken a nap. I dreamed I was on my way to visit my mother in Illinois, and when I stopped to change buses, I saw my mother selling tickets. She had long yellow hair. Continue reading →