When you're young, you think everything you do is disposable. You move from now to now, crumpling time up in your hands, tossing it away. You're your own speeding car. You think you can get rid of things, and people too—leave them behind. You don't yet know about the habit they have, of coming back.Time in dreams is frozen. You can never get away from where you've been.

In my dreams of this city I am always lost.

But my dreaming self refuses to be consoled. It continues to wander, aimless, homeless, alone. It cannot be convinced of its safety by any evidence drawn from my waking life.

Time in dreams is frozen. You can never get away from where you've been.

In the daylight we knowwhat’s gone is gone,but at night it’s different.Nothing gets finished,not dying, not mourning;

from under the ground, from under the waters,they clutch at us, they clutch at us,we won’t let go.