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Night

My recent dreams have terrified me. “Push!” I shout and the baby crawls out on its own acephalous, absolutely no head, and in its neck a single eye that opens and blinks. Cut to my new life with Mo on the border between Israel and the Occupied Territories. Hundreds of us live in a large house and then the bombers come. Missiles whistling down one after another, bodies in the air—and when it appears to be over a full passenger jet crashes straight into the surviving crowd. Then I'm back in Brooklyn and my doctor puts her hand straight through the hole in my stomach.

I try not to borrow trouble, because I have faith that in time trouble will show up and knock gently on the door. Mostly by luck I live a life of extraordinary privilege, which to me means that I have health insurance, opportunities, very little debt, and neither I nor my fiancée are threatened by an invading army. But the sleep brain wants to give me fits. I have to finish these projects.


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About the author: I've been running this website from 1997. For a living I write stories and essays, program computers, edit things, and help people launch online publications. (LinkedIn). I wrote a novel. I was an editor at Harper's Magazine for five years; then I was a Contributing Editor; now I am a free agent. I was also on NPR's All Things Considered for a while. I still write for The Morning News, and some other places.

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Recent

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