I’m with my father in our backyard on Prescott Drive. He takes me to see what’s tormenting him.
It’s a story in a book. It’s my grandmother. He has to pray with her. She’s very religious. He has to pray the story in the book every day and he hates it.
I look in the book to see the other stories, to see who the other stories are written by. I try to show him the other stories in the book.
I tell him that the authors of the other stories are all prominent members of a school called "Connecticut Realism."
We visit a shop that sells uniforms. All the clothes are displayed on mannequins and are sold in plastic packages.
I see a beautiful cashmere top and pants. I try to buy it, but the actual clothing in the packages is much cheaper fabric.
