EMILY
n the dream， they were all in the living room. I knew they were poor;
everything in the room said they were poor， but everything in the
room was so clean， and the sunlight poured in as if the sun intended to
set right in that room. \"We went everywhere，\" my grandmother said，
\"on these six feet.\" She turned her head so that her glance took in her
two daughters and her husband. \"We had no cars， we had no money
for horse carriages or trolleys. So we walked. We went everywhere. To
the RKO Brunswick， to Prospect Park， to the Brooklyn Public Library.
Everywhere on these six feet，\" and she looked down at her feet with
pride. Her shoes were sturdy brown leather shoes; they had thick
brown laces and their soles were sensible. They inspired confidence.
\"Everywhere，\" she said again， and the others nodded. The setting sun
poured in through the window behind them， outlining them in light.
How ladylike was any grandmother s posture as she sat on the edge of
her chair， her long， graceful legs pressed together， her hands folded
neatly in her lap. And so her daughters sat too. My grandfather sat
back in his chair， one hand on each knee， his face in shadow. He said
nothing. He never had much to say to them. Then， unexpectedly， he
said， Yes， and the girls nodded. They were sitting in an incandescent
room， a room of molten gold. I was so happy I began to cry. But they
no longer noticed me.
The next night， they were again in the dream， but they were in a
back room. I couldn t see them.
I had been so happy since they had come the night before. But
why had she said we could go anywhere on these six feet? There were
four of them sitting in the room. She should have said we went every-
where on these eight feet.
Someone walked into the room f， rom the hall. I told him about the
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