by Francine DuBois
She only stayed awake for parts of Akira Kurosawa's "Dreams."
Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version -- Inspiration
While she slept, she had the exact same dream she had in kindergarten.
Cory had eye surgery and had to wear a patch over his left eye.
In her dream, she was blind: all she could see was flesh,
That reddish-orange shade she saw when she closed her eyes
And stared at the sun. When she woke up from that dream,
Back when she was six, she could never look at Cory again,
Afraid that he would see her misting eyes and a sadness
Even she didn't completely understand with his one good eye.
But now she was an adult, loosely speaking, and could handle
Traumatic dreams better. After waking up from its replay, she still
Couldn't talk for a few minutes, and just let Kurosawa paint
The world for her again, those Van Gogh oranges suddenly more disturbing.
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