Through most of my thirties, I spent my dreamtimes following cobbled streets that angled into mysterious alleyways and climbing wide stone steps that descended to destinations I never reached. In the mornings, I’d hurriedly make breakfasts and the kids’ lunches and wait for the bus to take me to the subway and then into the slab of concrete office building where I did psychological research at the University of Toronto. Through long Canadian winters with skies the color of cement, my eyes would ache for the green hills and shining rivers of Someplace Else. I never actually put such thoughts into words. I only felt them. Read more »