I'm walking through city streets, trying to find my place in the world, when I come upon a bear and a gorilla wrestling furiously on the ground. I'm curious to see who'll win, but to avoid being noticed and eaten I flee to an apartment building where I live. They're moving their battle toward me, and in terror I lock myself in the bathroom even though I know it's the worst place to hide. I climb onto the sink and then higher, onto the narrow, rounded ledge that divides the upper, plaster portion of the wall from the lower, tile portion. Looking in the mirror from this precarious perch, I see that my jaw is rattling uncontrollably and my eyes are fixed with fright.
When there has been silence for a while, I risk leaving. I sneak into a side street and blend in among the pedestrians, looking for my way out, composing poems in my head to help me calm down.
Waking this morning, my first question is which of my parents is the bear and which is the gorilla.