My first dream of the night had nothing to do with silent fathers or desert exiles. No, in that dream we were curled up on the sofa, all arms and wiggling toes. It was dusk and the blue windows were all that lit the black house. We watched a movie or television or listened to records. I'm not sure which. The other bedroom was furnished not with desks or filing cabinets or shoes. Around the room were all of the necessary pieces, all different colors. The room was proud and waiting, just the same as us.