Looking back at the notes Ijotted down about my dreams, I searched for clues. Statues. Mother.Shadows. Mouse. I remembered that the mouse had whispere... something inmy ear, but I couldn't quite remember what, and the harder I tried torecall, the farther away the dream became.My mother told me once that memories "are like a feral animal. Theharder you try to force one into submission, the harder it pulls away." But," she told me, "if you act like you aren't interested, and justrelax, very often. "Then I stand just out of your reach and take off my clothes." She said as she reached behind herself and undid a catch at the top of her sleeveless sweater.She crossed her arms in front of her and held the bottom of the garment and pulled it up and over her head being careful not to mess her hair or catch the chain around her neck.She revealed a thin cupped bra that provided support but certainly didn't hide her half dollar sized dark nipples or their hardened buds. The last time he saw her. More

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