She has dreamed this dream before. She always ends here, on the cool hardwood floor, unhappy with life. Her hand on the floor traces the wooden grain to the wall. Moving to the right, her body traces an invisible path to the dresser. Her mind races, but now she only thinks of one thing.
Her delicate white hands open the drawer of the dresser. She cautiously reaches in lifting the clothes that hide her escape. Reverence rushes over her as fingers brush against it. She forgets her promises. For a moment it crosses her mind that she never meant them. Despite what she said she always knew she would give up her honor, her pride, for the sense of peace that will fill her, and lift her spirit.
Done, she sits in the dark. She doesn’t have to wait long. The thoughts slow. That was the dream, this is the Truth. A soft cool haze seeps into her mind from places she is too scared to explore. She no longer has control. She doesn’t want control. She has given herself to the beast and will happily follow it’s whim for bliss.