No matter how much money and sense of security we have banked, I think
inside each of us there is, at some time, a barefoot and hungry vagabond,
seeking shelter from the cold; someone who feels misplaced, worn to the
bone, despondent. I have had many dreams about being homeless myself, forced
to share a bed or sleep in a room with strangers. In one dream, I found
shelter at a friend’s house. I was sitting on the couch until I realized it
was her husband’s favored spot for watching T.V. and moved away. Her husband
looked me in the eye and said, “It could happen to anyone.”