October 28, 2010 A child’s doll has died. At his request, I ask his mother for permission to conduct a funeral service in a language no one understands. This she grants. The doll is in a shoe box, beneath a fastened lid. Sunlight finds us in the street outside. A lone trumpet: inside the box, the doll begins to sing. December 21, 2010 My grandfather, alive again and in […]
I met a young father holding a baby. I had no idea who they were. I took the baby in my arms, held him up against my shoulder, and spoke gently to him. He smiled. I don’t remember what I said, but I think it was something simple and silly, but true. It’s been quite some time since I’ve held a baby — not a thought one has every day. […]
Although I’ve recorded and published many dreams, I have not written about sleep itself more than to say in passing that I slept poorly or I slept well, which is, really, a way of avoiding the subject. What a terrible night, I say, — and then move on to other things. Or, That’s the best I’ve slept in forty years, as if I could remember each and every night, and […]
William Michaelian 