"I hated dreams," the quiet woman asserted, her voice stronger and louder than anyone had ever heard it. The direct contact made with her eyes, the head pushed slightly forward, the expressive hands, all showed she had something important to say.
Her voice and attitude took them all by surprise. They fell silent.
"I dream only fear. Then I awake with a start, my anxious heart pounding, my skin sweating. I lie there. I wait for my heart to slow, for the fear to drip away, and while this is happening, because this always happens, I think about the dream."