by Wendy Oleson Johannes Plenio I. A child, decades before I’ve met you, I climb my father’s wing-backed chair to be as close to Heaven as possible when the light passes through the stained-glass circles and breaks over Reverend Mother. She glows. On our TV she sings to Fraulein Maria — nun or governess, I’m not sure which woman I love more — about finding her dream. # In a dream I’m wearing a white t-shirt so large it must be a nightgown. Bloodied and torn, I stretch it over