“—John Banville, The Untouchable Can you be joyful with a dead dog and a lingering centenarian mother? There’s the rub. If only euthanasia were possible with mothers! I am beginning to think that death may not be the worst thing that happens to a living creature. Lingering may be much worse. I have always been a vivid dreamer. I can sleep for ten hours a night, dreaming endless dreams. After Belinda dies, the dreaming grows more intense. I dream I am crossing a muddy river, my long skirt cov...ered in slime. A dial is in my hand. How it got there I don’t know, but it points to a number, 1888—and a young man with a dark, bushy handlebar mustache is crossing behind me, screaming at me in Russian. Terrified, as in a dream, I yell: “Not this far back!” I dial forward—1932—and there are my young parents swimming in the sea—without me. “No!” I shout. “No!” “Why do you think you can pick the time?” my mother asks me. And forward goes the dial to some blurry number starting with 20 and four young people are staring into a coffin—and weeping.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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