Dad dreams we flee the Nazis, our ‘55 Buick low on gas. We drive by the sea. They come with guns. They come in submarines. He wakes sweating and terrified. He shares his fear with me. Nazis enter my dreams dragging the stench of Dachau. They come with guns. They come in submarines. I wake sweating and terrified. Neo-Nazis march in Charlotte armed - flags waving, hatred palpable and near. In dreams, I hear the thud of boots on the night stairs.
