at the beginning of this year, the night before the freshman arrived on campus, i had a nightmare about being on a balcony. i was in the projects, staring out across the street at a building identical to my own: tall, brick, uniform, blank. i was as high as the eleventh or twelfth floor, looking at the balconies across the way. most of them held laundry lines, barbecues, tires, toys- the sundry items of everyday life. i saw a baby crawl unobserved out of the apartment directly across from mine, pulling herself up on the bars of the railings. as i watched, breathless, she slipped between the rails and began to to fall toward the street as i screamed. i saw her family inside, eating dinner at the table, oblivious as she fell.
she hit the ground, and i felt myself throw wide my arms, outstretched to catch her even though i was twelve floors high, too far to do anything but tremble or shout. but when i looked around, i found that i was standing on the street level, only a few feet from where she had fallen. i was only a few steps away, and i did nothing. my arms were empty.
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