A raw fear gripped her. The dream had been too vivid, too beautiful. She had lost herself in that dream- letting all the beauty ensnare her and in all abandon, she had let go of her hold on herself.
And she had woken up. Crudely. From those images of pristine perfection. To the stark drab graying walls of her leaking room. To those flaky patches of concrete still struggling to hold on to the wall with invisible ivy hands. To that wooden skirting that was paling and crumbling in parts and annoying her by their presence and absence.
She had known somewhere, when the dream began, that it was a dream. But why then did she allow herself to sink in its embracing waters?! She had lived through the carousing ways of happiness and mortgaged sanity for it.
And now- she was left with nothing but fear. Fear of the craving gnawing crushing emptiness that she once called her heart. It was not there and she wanted it.