“I only remember it like I remember a dream. I have these certain types of dreams—dreams where I live a childhood entirely different from my own—and I play with other kids, and I love my parents, and I do everything that people are supposed to do, and then I wake up. Some people can tell when they’re dreaming. The only time when I wonder if it’s all real is when I’m awake.
When Mof died he had this look on his face—I’ll never forget it—he looked like his whole life he’d wanted to know something—something about himself—and that now, at last he was about to find that out. He had this cold, knowing calm. He didn’t call out. He didn’t struggle. He just did it. That was the only time I’d ever seen him cry. I don’t want to die, Ophelia. I never have. But if dying can give that sense of clarity about oneself…
My biggest fear, Ophelia, is that I’m playing dress up—that I’m going to die playing dress up, and I’ll never get to know what It’s like to take the costume off. You say that you still feel like a little girl. I don’t know what I feel like. I think I’m just going to dream and dream until I die.”
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