In the dim, grey dawn there is a sense that I am not quite awake, but certainly not quite dead. In the grey she stands there. "Mama? Mama? Will you help me?" She whispers as if not to break the spell. I nod and dream about her as she stands beside me, waiting. "Mama?!" she whispers again. I peel my eyes open and peer at her through the grey. "Oh Lord! When did she get so beautiful?" In the grey my hands twist through her hair, forcing obedience from the honey colored mass. "Thank you, Mama." she whispers as she walks away. In the grey, the spell is broken, and I spring to life again.