I am standing in this, this huge ocean of a field, a sea of rolling hills and dark shadows that dance like flames underneath the sun bleached knee high grass. There is an itching humidity in this place, and the sun stares down on me from its hole in the sharp blue sky. I am wearing this huge flapping white dress (cotton) and am bare-footed. I look at the dress. It is very beautiful, though it is something I would never buy for myself. I turn, and I can hear my feet twisting in the grass, and suddenly, underneath a distant splash of dark thunderclouds in the sky, there is this woman.
She is both near and far at the same instant, and I can see deep into her eyes, there is so much sadness in them. Her face is a collection of lines and planes in the sun, the wrinkles etching out deep inky shadows across her faded skin. She is wearing a huge blanket, a gray white mass of folds, with these large multicolored flowers looping across the fabric in a circular fashion. Long leather fringe spills from the side of this blanket, swaying in the gentle wind.
There is a storm behind her, a screen of black dusty rain falling at an angle upon the grasslands distant, and there is a sudden chill in the air. The woman’s gray hair though neatly tied back, is tugged at in little strands by the rising wind. She raises an arm, and gives me an impatient frustrated look. I turn to look where she is pointing, and suddenly there is this little girl, in a small flower print dress, crying. I feel the hair on my neck rise as I rush towards her. She looks at me with shocked, wide eyes. She is not more than three or so, and her arms are held out to me. I can take away her pain. Whatever is making my daughter cry, I can stop it if I just pick her up and-
There is a white flash of light and pain, and I grimace as this sudden heat lifts me off my feet and pitches me forward through the air. My heart feels like it's missing, and the last thought I have is the look on that little girl’s face.