I dreamt of a small child. She belonged to someone else. She was probably only 2-years-old. She had golden blonde hair. I wanted to keep her. She was like sunshine. I didn’t want to give her back to her parents. I never saw who they were, but I didn’t think they were very good at raising her. They just let me carry her around and never looked to see if she was okay. Either they completely trusted me or they were just absentminded parents.
She reminded me of my daughter I had to give away. My daughter who would grow up to dance in the fields, barefoot and carefree. Dirt at her heels. Always running or dancing. She would wear flowers in her long, honey-blonde hair. She would be a child of the earth. One that I could never reach. Only through whispers would she know me. She would never know that I helped to give her life. She shouldn’t. She would feel pain, but I could only watch without intervention.