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Date Posted: 06:08:49 03/22/02 Fri
Author: Jezi
Subject: dreams
In reply to: Travis 's message, "Morning." on 05:53:27 03/22/02 Fri

Shifting gently on the couch, laughing in her sleep, dreams of the past when all were happy and he was still alive. Minutes past and her smile fades. A piercing scream issued forth past sleeping lips, echoing thru the house, she sits bolt upright on the couch, eyes open staring ahead of her, thou her eyes are open with rigidity of her posture and the shallowness of her breath it is quite clear to one that she is still asleep. She sits there staring ahead, no further sound issued forth. Quickly getting up walking to the kitchen, returning a minute later with a single piece of bread, clutched in her grasp. Moving to the far corner of the room, getting down on hands and knees crawling forth the last few paces before sitting down cross legged, proudly displaying the piece of bread to no one. “The pickings were slim tonight. I couldn’t find anyone, I’m sorry this is only half a burger, it was all I could get away from the pack, their back in the neighborhood. I got distracted by the cars again, I lost track of time, I’m sorry.” She tells her invisible companion of the past, head lowers that of a child being scolded for doing something wrong. Dial snaps back up, a soft smile gracing delicate labrum as she starts to tear the single piece of bread into two pieces. “Please don’t call me Bree, you know she’s dead, call me by the name you always said I was, what was it? Oh yes, Princesse du la rue. Yes, yes I’m separating it equally.” She tells the invisible figure, even thou the words are chippery pale azures echo nothing but misery, pain and hunger, but otherwise unseeing; clearly tearing the piece unevenly. Hand darts out offering forth the larger of the two pieces to her ‘companion’. Dropping the piece, acting as if ‘he’ had taken it from her. Picking at her own piece taking her time consuming it, rocking herself from side to side gently. “Maybe I’ll do better tomorrow. Maybe I’ll find someone with a few dollars, then we will really feast!” slowly laying down in the corner of the room, curling in on herself, “Sing to me,” she requests from her ‘companion,’ “Please Mac? You know I can’t sleep unless you sing to me.” She offers forth, no more than a child’s voice, pleading with someone. “If I start will you come in?” Her voice begins, a soft lulling French ballad, no more than a sweet melody thou holding a note of sadness. After a few bars of the song, she quickly stops… “Mac?” a worried note singing forth, hand reaching out touching nothing but air, “Mac? Mac wake up!” quickly sitting up crawling to where the piece of bread lied. Sitting cross legged once more staring at the bread, “Don’t leave me.” A soft pleading to the invisible being. Silent tears tracing down her face as she sits staring at the bread, “Oh Mac, I’m so sorry.” She sniffles gently, “Maybe Fortuna will be kind enough to end my misery and take me soon. Goodbye my friend.” She whispers gently, getting back on hands and knees crawling back to the corner curling up once more, knees and forehead pressed firmly against the wall, again her voice sings out softly, “Et voila qu'elle trotte la lune qui flotte, la princesse aussi.” (And see how she how she skips, the moon how she drifts, with the princess in tow) eyes closing once more, this time no movement nor words escape, and thru this whole experience she sleeps, in the morn when she awakens it will be a distant memory once more, never knowing of her actions nor words spoken.

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