The Minus-One Club

In the dream, we’re at a picnic. Just the two of us- Sheila and me. This never happened in real life, but it feels real enough. She has her hair down and streaming in the wind, wild and lovely and swirling in her face the way she hates but that looks really awesome, […]

Clearly, I’m in my magic phase. I can’t see myself in the dream, but I must be nine or ten. The blanket beneath us is Sheila’s childhood bedspread, covered with cartoon turtles who apparently dance. She got rid of it when she went into high school and wanted to act all grown-up, so it ended up in a wad in the basement. Now the turtles dance beneath us, slow smooth steps that are meant to be a samba.