When I meditate, I find that I come down to a room that is stone walled. There is an archway, and a wooden door and a long key hanging to the one side. There is no knob, no latch, only the key will open it. I enter. It is a long hall that has many doors and I pick one. I walk in, and find myself feeling the bump of a carriage ride over cobblestones. My dress is long, and I am young. I am laying down, with my head in the lap of a woman who is stroking my hair. I don’t want to go, but I must. I have been crying. I look up as the carriage stops. The house is huge. I know I will not be happy here. I see a gate house- we have stopped there so that the luggage can be unloaded. I look in the polished plate of metal that is so tiny, yet, is a mirror. I see my face- my eyes red rimmed. I am just 13, yet, my life is over. The gate keepers son is ill. While the things are unloaded, I enter his room. He is about 5, and lays on his bed with a weakness that is explained by his cough. He will not get well.I am taken to the house, and washed by the servants who do not smile. I will be presented to night. I wait, I hear voices, anger, shouting. I am dragged from the room and taken down stairs. I have done the unpardonable when I entered into the child’s room. The child has died, they are afraid that I have brought the illness into the house hold. I am taken down to the lowest part of the manor and thrown into the cellar where no food or water is given to me. No one opens the door to my pounding. I am hoarse from crying out. I am weak, as I watch the days go by. I know and have named every rat – every spider that lives with me. I hear a noise at the hallway above the steps. I rush up to bang on the door, but this trip is longer. The door opens, swinging inward to the stairway. I have forgotten this. It hits me, causing me to fall. I see the floor come up to meet me and then darkness. As life ebbs from me, I know that they have discovered the boys illness was not one that could be contagious. I remember the look in his eyes. I know, no more. I wake.My next meditation takes me into the next door, that opens into a bakery. I am standing beside my mother she is purchasing bread. The man behind the counter smiles inviting at her. She is polite, firm, she is beautiful. I lean against her wool coat. It smells of her perfume. As we leave the shop I see him scowl and reach for the phone. I remember voices pulling me out of bed, of cries from my mother as we are separated and taken out into the rain. I see it glistening in the night from the pavement as we are loaded onto the cattle cars. I do not cry. I have been told to be strong and brave, and I will survive. I see the people being separated into two groups. I look up, there is a young man who is telling others which group we should go into. I look into his eyes, his meet mine. He is about to send me to one group when he changes his order and then nods at me. I go down steps with the rest of the people. There are pipes that run down the length of the steps. I don’t see my mother. I am alone, as is an older woman who could be my grand mother. She takes my hand and kisses my forehead and tells me everything is going to be all right.I hear a soft hiss. People whimper about me. I hold on to her hand as we fall to our knees, I can’t breath. I call out for my mother, and then there is darkness and I wake.