![It Was A Dream; [She] Was a Dream](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/579fa3912994ca0eff850271/1516915872639-PUKF0S01DFN34TIMXI4P/sleeping+woman.jpg)
It Was A Dream; [She] Was a Dream
And that tuft of hair on her mound of Venus that surrounded her lips and teased itself into a perfect curl with the perfect color. She was my ideal.
Then I saw my body, scarred — from the cesarean, fat, lined, wrinkled. It was mine. I heard a woman in the background say, Roberta’s breasts are too large. And it’s just not pretty.
You see, the people in my dreams talk, and they are not always kind.
If you ever want the Ellis Island experience circa 1907, swing into the Chicago City Clerk’s office in Portage Park. The number of different accents is loads of fun and reminds you of the shared American Experience, which is that city bureaucracy is no fun for any of us.