I see a woman.
She is silent, looking at me. Dressed in cream color robes, like a Greek goddess or statue. But she is warm and alive. She is quiet, calm, silent. She is beautiful. I think of men projecting on her, that many would say she is sexy.
She has been called a whore. And a man wants to marry her. He assures her that he loves her. That he will make her legitimate by marriage. He believes that he is raising her up to the most honorable height he can imagine by marrying her.
She has made choices to survive. She is beautiful but has no money. No property. No family. She is not allowed to own property: only men are.
I am her, looking at a small prayer station. It is ceramic, or stone. There are coins in it. Each coin is placed in the stack as a prayer. It makes me think of the Japanese ceramic cats, arm waving as a prayer. For luck.
I/She is thinking about another way. She thinks that she will get a coin. She will return to the prayer station. She will place the coin in as a prayer, and take the coins, leaving a few.
She knows that this is theft. However, her culture sees her only as property, to bear men's children, to be used. Her theft is far less then what her culture has taken from her. And she knows that she can take the coins.
She will get a coin and start. She will take coins and disappear, start again. She will find a way to have money and retain her independence.
I wake up.