I am dreaming this morning. There is an elephant on the deck of a big old boat in a lagoon at night. On the boat with the elephant are performers in hindi costume. Surrounding the lagoon are amazing tall trees, weeping down to touch the waters. We are on a boardwalk on the shore watching the show. There is a mechanical failure in the performance and the ring leader dies instantly. He was supposed to be launched into the air and suspended on vast swath of colorful parachute nylon. The elephant is going into a rage at the death of his master. He attacks the other performers and starts smashing the props on the deck of the boat. I turn and see my grandmother on the dock. She is glowing and smiling. I haven’t seen her for three years, since her funeral. She is healthy and radiant; unlike the gaunt, thin, pale last years.

She says to me, “I love you. You will bring good into the world the same as me. How you told me in your letter.”

I wake up crying.