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Brody felt a shimmy of fear skitter up his back. He was a very poor swimmer, and the prospect of being on top of—let alone in—water above his head give him what his mother used to call the wimwams: sweaty palms, a persistent need to swallow, and a ache in his stomach—essentially the sensation some people feel about flying. In Brody's dreams, deep water was populated by slimy, savage things that rose from below and shredded his flesh, by demons that cackled and moaned. ↗
Često dolaziš kod mene da se družimo. A meni i nije baš do druženja. Ali šta ću, na to sam te navikao. Pričaš da ne možeš da veruješ da je bio takav prema tebi i kako je mogao to da ti uradi, a ja te gledam i zamišljam: „Kako bih ti to uradio.” Svašta mi još pričaš. Iznosiš tajne, proš- lost, budućnost. Kažeš kako je super da me imaš, a ja te gledam i zamišljam: „Kako bi bilo super da te imam.” Iz dva ugla gledamo na istu stvar, a i ti živiš na drugom kraju grada, a između nas sto miliona ulica koje treba proći i vozovi su tako spori i vremena je malo, i često pada kiša, i ti radiš, i ja radim, i rođendani su nam tako ret- ko, i ostale razne stvari me sprečavaju a i teše. Drugačije nije ni moglo, zar ne? ↗
Ja sam prolećni vetar. Onaj što donosi leto. I ljubav. Onaj što nikad ne duva sredom. Ja se sjurim i udarim ti u lice i lice ti u osmeh pretvorim. Kada mi gledaš u leđa, suze ti pada- ju na vrhove cipela. Ja sam prolećni vetar. Onaj što donosi sjaj. Kradem ti tugu i kamenjem je zatrpam. Ja sam prolećni vetar, ne volim poeziju ali tvoj sam. Zato prolećni vetar budi i ti. ↗
He ran his fingers over the moist ends of her hair and across her face. Her eyes were wet. Jesus Christ. How many nights had he heard Lily crying. As some parents sleep through fire, thunderstorms, and voices at the back door only to wake at a child’s whisper, so Everett heard Lily crying at night. Her muffled sobs seemed to have broken his dreams for years. He had heard her even at Fort Lewis, even in Georgia, finally at Bliss. That was Lily crying in the wings whenever the priest came to tear up his mother’s grave. Lily cried in the twilight field where he picked wild poppies with Martha; Lily’s was the cry he heard those nights the kiln burned, the levee broke, the ranch went to nothing. ↗
As Ariel recounted the events of her dream, two magnificent, batlike wings grew from the backs of her shoulders, stretched as if preparing to fly, then retreated back into their host. The sound heard when the wings disappear is the giggling of Alanna, who watched the event much the same way I did, in rapt wonder. ↗
This is something an ordinary man can never know. You will enter the House of Dreams, Juanito, where you will live forever. Your mother and father and sisters and brothers, your grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, all you will greet in their dreams. And only you, among them, will be safe. ↗
