“Out of the corner of his eye, the rabbit saw something flutter. Edward looked over this shoulder and there they were, the most magnificent wings he had ever seen, orange and red and blue and yellow. And they were on his back. They belonged to him. They were his wings.”

A few nights ago, I dreamed I stood in a house filled with windows, and watched as Bagram Ibatoulline painted wings on a rabbit.
I said, “Oh, it’s just like Edward’s dream in the book.”
Bagram said, “Shhh. You are watching?”
“Yes,” I said.
Bagram put down his paintbrush.
We watched together as the beautiful wings lifted Edward right up off the page.
The whole dream lasted no more than a minute, but I’ve carried the light and the wings—the joy of it–with me ever since.

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