They wheeled her into the room during a tense time. I can’t put my finger on what was wrong, and this was, after all, just a dream, but even in dreams the ominous can be felt. The atmosphere just felt worrisome, the way you feel when you’ve forgotten something but don’t yet realize what it is. She looked tiny, much smaller than the childhood memories I have of this grand woman, who always seemed larger than life. Now, in my dream, her hair was shrunken like the rest of her, and her legs were so diminutive that at first I thought they were gone.
My grandmother, gone from this earth for a few years, now visiting my dreams, and looking, despite her size and wheelchair, full of color and life. Her skin was no longer pale or addled with veins. It glowed a healthy color. Around her head an aura glistened like sun on the sea. Yet it was her eyes that transfixed me most: they sparkled.
Then the dream was done, and the uneasiness that has plagued my nights of late returned in the dark and empty room.
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