Dreams of the Past [ON HOLD]

Dream

The woman had never been so sad.  Reading the poetry of the man named Chuya was soul crushing.  Knowing he did not receive recognition while alive was depressing.  She was sitting on her bed staring at a blank wall.  No more than two seconds after she took everything in, did a warm liquid poor out of her eyes.  The woman never thought she would cry over someone's poetry, however, here she was.  She lied her head on her pillow and drifted into sleep with tears still staining her face.  Dreams.  Her dreams on this particular night were confusing.

Dream~
Footsteps tapped on the ground.  There was a man who had his face covered by a hat, his face down.  He walked down a step and turned.  Something splashed on the ground in front of him.  Tears?  The man was crying.  Sobbing, weeping the tears coming down like hail.  "My tears" he said.  "Why am I crying?"  The woman held out a hand tapping his shoulder lightly. Excuse me?" She asked politely.  He looked up.  "Who are you" he asked, wiping his eyes and sniffing.  "Why I am...nobody.  I am not important." The woman answered.  "No, you are...La neige soignante qui a répondu à mes pleurs*"
With that, the man faded away.

*it means "the caring snow that has answered to my weeping"