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Pastimes : Don't Ask Rambi -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Ish who wrote (58743)	2/19/2001 5:55:17 PM
From: Volsi Mimir	Respond to of 71178

HOW MY FATHER TURNED THE NIGHT INTO STORIES Nothing as common as sheep. To fall asleep, my father told me to count fish swimming inside the gray light bulb. He said listen and I would hear their blind lips singing. He said sleep was a mirror they kept bumping into, trying to slide out. After he left, I stood on my bed, yanked the string as if it were a hand line tossed into the sky. I was sure I would see their bright scales in this sudden flash of light. Thinking he had lied I snuck slowly down the stairs, balanced the warm bulb in my palms like a miniature tank of water. But in the basement, although I saw nothing spill out when I dropped it on the cold cement floor, I felt my father surface upstairs, gasping from a dream. Now, middle aged, I dive each night towards some murky bottom to find my own son testing this same bedtime story like an old lure he will never trust, casting it far and deep into the dark. ~Jack Driscoll Kayak