For some reason, I have this vivid childhood something - I feel like it was a dream, obviously it was a dream. But then why does it feel like a memory? It goes like this. Suddenly, my eyes open, and I start to pitter-patter around my house. I know I must have been very young, because I was in the first house I had ever lived, and my parents were together. I had started in my old room- maybe there was a wooden crib and maybe there wasn't, but the real anchor to this almost 30-year-old picture in my head was this small, stuffed dog. A German Shepherd named Nero, because I called him that after my grandparents' dog. The stuffed version of Nero had a blue, 1st place ribbon on his chest. He must have been a showdog. I have no idea where he came from. As I pitter-pattered, I carried Nero in my hand. Room-to-room, exploring and examining the surroundings, the sound of my parents' and my big brother's voice coming in and out of focus. The part of this memory or dream or com
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