Why don’t you ask David?

Morning light fills my grandmother’s room. I’m playing a black, upright piano, doodling; slowly picking out “Something Special” and playing the first riff over and over again.  

There is a sketch of a naked woman on the wall behind the piano. It’s just a quick line drawing. She’s sitting hunched over holding her knees. I think my father drew it in the sixties. Every time my fingers move, her fingers move. I stare at the picture while I play.

Kerry is sitting behind me at the window. 

I ask, “Do you think Mom missed us when she left us so long ago?” Kerry answers, “yeah. Look at how she is now. She can’t stand to be away from us.” 

I keep playing; we’re talking about how poor we are. Kerry says she has nothing to wear. 

“Why don’t you ask David?” I suggest. 

“No way. That’s crazy.” 

“Why not, I needed a pair of pants. That’s how I got these. Ask David, he’s an Angel, he’ll help you.” 

A loud crash wakes me up just as I say that. It startles me enough that I have to look around. The energy board is sitting on the floor in the hallway along with my mittens.

— from a dream, February 28, 2002


April 26, 2026
Salem, MA

image: posing at the Tivoli Artists Gallery – Holly Troy


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Holly hails from an illustrious lineage of fortune tellers, yogis, folk healers, troubadours and poets of the fine and mystical arts. Shape-shifting Tantric Siren of the Lunar Mysteries, she surfs the ebbs and flows of the multiverse on the Pure Sound of Creation. Her alchemy is Sacred Folly — revolutionary transformation through Love, deep play, Beauty, and music.

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