EMILY<br > n the dream， they were all in the living room. I knew they were poor;<br > everything in the room said they were poor， but everything in the<br >room was so clean， and the sunlight poured in as if the sun intended to<br >set right in that room. "We went everywhere，" my grandmother said，<br >"on these six feet." She turned her head so that her glance took in her<br >two daughters and her husband. "We had no cars， we had no money<br >for horse carriages or trolleys. So we walked. We went everywhere. To<br >the RKO Brunswick， to Prospect Park， to the Brooklyn Public Library.<br >Everywhere on these six feet，" and she looked down at her feet with<br >pride. Her shoes were sturdy brown leather shoes; they had thick<br >brown laces and their soles were sensible. They inspired confidence.<br >"Everywhere，" she said again， and the others nodded. The setting sun<br >poured in through the window behind them， outlining them in light.<br >How ladylike was any grandmother s posture as she sat on the edge of<br >her chair， her long， graceful legs pressed together， her hands folded<br >neatly in her lap. And so her daughters sat too. My grandfather sat<br >back in his chair， one hand on each knee， his face in shadow. He said<br >nothing. He never had much to say to them. Then， unexpectedly， he<br >said， Yes， and the girls nodded. They were sitting in an incandescent<br >room， a room of molten gold. I was so happy I began to cry. But they<br >no longer noticed me.<br > The next night， they were again in the dream， but they were in a<br >back room. I couldn t see them.<br > I had been so happy since they had come the night before. But<br >why had she said we could go anywhere on these six feet? There were<br >four of them sitting in the room. She should have said we went every-<br >where on these eight feet.<br > Someone walked into the room f， rom the hall. I told him about the<br ><br >