“Hi, Uncle Charlie. Thank you for coming to get me. Can we go home now? I hate this place. This town.” She looked at the foster mother and said, �...�Not you, Ma’am. I’m sorry I sounded like that. I have so many bad memories, I just want my uncle to take me away far away from this ... Just far away from here and let me start over. Please understand. I thank you for feeding me and putting a roof over my head. I’ve been terrible company. Thank you for everything you did, and everything you tried to. It all began with the dream I had just the other night. Unlike my dreams these days, it didn’t take place in an alternative place, weird and unfamiliar. I didn’t have that bizarre dream feeling. It was as if the dream took place in real time, in my own home and in my own bedroom. My home in those days was woody and open with windows that welcomed in the opaque Northwest light. The kitchen was adequate, but the exquisite the dining area and living room overlooked a deep emerald green, old. More

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