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Contents Page: October, 2010, vol 6 no 3

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Genie Nakano


I watch as my father slowly dies. He is hooked up to a network of tubes and I am not allowed to touch him. The intubator down his throat leaves him speechless. He begs me to let him die with his eyes. Trying to break free of the ropes that tie him to the bed, he keeps shaking his head no, no, no,. But the doctor says--not yet. So Dad gives up and zones out; and I sit there for 5 weeks and talk to him. He never answers. After he passes, I ask him to talk to me through dreams. Again he does not answer.

Suddenly this week – eleven years late – he's been visiting my dreams every night. He hasn't answered my question about if there's an after life. But he does things like walk in on a dream when my husband and I are just about to make love; or dressed in his usual black beret, he takes me to a house with a massive front yard--acres big. It needs watering and together we decide it needs more trees.

Haiku. . .
your therapy
Dad says in my dream

The next day I see acupuncturist #6 for the pain in my fingers. I've seen three different ones this month. Looks like arthritis. I go home -- sleep 16 hours and dream.

I dream about my Indian Dance Master. I'm directing a production for her. She is sitting on a lotus doing the 22 mudras of Mohiniattam.* Dad walks into the "after party". He is a dwarf and he is with my cousin, another dwarf. They look happy, glowing and laughing as they walk. He looks up to me and smiles.

The next day I go over the mudras. Neglected for years – yet my fingers remember.

My hands and fingers
open to mudras
memorized by heart


Mohiniattam is the classical Indian dance of Kerala, India. It is soft and enchanting.

Mohini is the god of echantment.

Mudras are the hand gestures used in the dance.


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