The Man With the Lantern
The dream is a memory, the memory a dream. One such had its beginning in perhaps my seventh or eighth year, for it was after my recurring hospital-related dream of shooting marbles with George, though not so long that others had taken on any significance. I say it had its beginning, because it lives on, even now, as I approach my sixty-seventh birthday. I was reminded of it again when […]
William Michaelian 