"Yes—that's the finest part of it."
"Do you ever dream of Sam?"
"Yes."
"And all those things you did on the harbor?"
"Yes—all."
For some moments she sat by my bedside quietly stroking one of my hands.
"Yes, mother." I was growing impatient, I wished she would go, for now it was nearly time for the train.
"Have you ever played other games like that? I mean where you leave yourself and look back—and see your own body behind you."
"Yes—in bed in Brooklyn when I was quite little."