This is what I saw in my dream.
As I sat at her bedside with my arms folded in front of me, the woman, who was lying on her back, told me in a quiet voice that she was going to die. Her long hair was spread out over her pillow, with her delicately contoured oval face resting in the middle. The depths of her white cheeks were flushed with the proper degree of warm color, and the color of her lips was naturally red. She didn't appear to be dying. However, she said clearly in her quiet voice that she would die. I thought too, then, that she might indeed die. So I asked, looking down on her from above, if it were true then that she was going to die. Affirming that she was going to die, she opened her eyes wide. Her large moist eyes, surrounded by long lashes, were of the purest black. Within the pure black of her pupils, my own reflection floated with vivid clarity.
As I gazed through to the depths of her lustrous black eyes, I wondered again if she were really going to die. So I carefully drew my mouth near to her pillow and asked again if she wouldn't live, if she wouldn't be all right. She responded in a quiet voice, with her dark eyes wide open but tired, that she would die, that she must die.
I asked in earnest if she could see my face. She smiled at me and replied that, yes, couldn't I see myself reflected in her eyes? I quietly drew away from her pillow. As I folded my arms again, I wondered if she really must die.