Dreams moved like clouds in her mind. In her waking hours her sky was blackness, empty of shape and colour, but when she slept her subconscious awoke into a brilliant daylight. The faces she saw could be dismissed as strangers, yet something told her they were more than the imaginings of her creative brain. A mother. A father. An uncle. Family? They had names, names she knew but couldn"t place. While she slept she explored the images, drawing out truths.
The strongest was always the woman. She danced in a kitchen, ran through a small garden; she sang off-key, pulled faces. There was love in her eyes. Fear, anger, heartache, but always love too. Sometimes she spoke. Sometimes the words stayed.
Then the chimes rang out and she was awake and by her bed, the last traces of the dream dissipat
