I was having my own experience of depersonalization, no drugs involved—an overwhelming sense of frames of reference giving way, of the past and present collapsing in on one another. I felt like a child who wanted her mom or Sima to protect her from her father and like a mother who was failing to protect her child, who was at risk of becoming one of the Men (I wasn’t keeping the promises I made when you were unconscious; I wasn’t learning to behave); I was simultaneously there with Grandma so the marble might soothe her (“Jane will be fine”) and I was there with Dad in the more recent past as I
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