The Dreams

Dream 80

We gathered in the old room: my mother, my four sisters, and me. No sooner had we closed the door upon ourselves than complaints arose about times past and people we knew.

My mother turned toward me apprehensively, swearing an oath that all she had ever done or said was out of the purest love. At this, voices were raised, demanding, “If that’s true, then how do you explain what happened?”

Scoldingly, my mother replied, “You have to account for yourselves, as well: don’t try to tell me it was all written and decreed.”