It's All Brooklyn Anyway

Dreamed I was in Afghanistan, wandering around in this strange gauzy outfit that seemed to have been thrown together fromfloral silk scarves, tied together. Your head is covered, I thought. You can’t possibly get into trouble. In this dream-Afghanistan there were subway stops – in fact the whole place looked a lot like the 1960 version of a residential neighborhood in Brooklyn that is now called Prospect Lefferts Gardens – my grandfather’s house was there. As I was walking down the street was shocked to see a Western woman marching down the street, head uncovered, Western garb, looking very grim.

“Who are you?” I asked. But she looked straight through me as though I wasn’t there and didn’t answer.

Autumn in full swing now, a midden of fallen, decaying leaves. A nice smell, like apples.