I inspected itclosely and looked at it from every possible angle but still could notascertain a way to access its contents. Looking back at the notes ...jotted down about my dreams, I searched for clues. Statues. Mother.Shadows. Mouse. I remembered that the mouse had whispered 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. And you don’t have to tell me any more right now if you don’t want to.”“You don’t think it makes me ... dirty, do you? You aren’t grossed out?”“Actually, it’s turning me on. I mean, I’m so hard thinking about it that it hurts.”“Really? Wow. I never thought you would get turned on by it.”“Suzi, I have a confession to make myself. But tell me one thing first. Did you and Marsha, like, you know, PLAY with each other?”“Um ... well ... yes.”“Cool. Okay. I guess you should know. I like ... Well, Joey. More

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