What dreams may come..

As I walked into the room I couldn't help noticing her face as she lay silently asleep. I hoped it was a sound sleep; coz I could make out it wasn't a pleasant one. The only word to describe the expression of the still face is - agony.

I looked a little closely, and I realized her lashes were blacker, not with some color but with moisture. The pink flowers on the pillow were a shade darker where her face rested, guessed they must have been sprinkled aplenty, because they were still struggling to absorb all the salt and water that came their way.

Her eyelids were bordering a deep shade of purple, could be from pain, or bruised by sharp edges of dreams that broke and floated around in her eyes, as a punishment for having conceived them in the first place.

I prayed to heavens above that she'd get a dreamless quite sleep tonight, because the day ahead wasn't going to offer her any better. Sleep was her only escape and a chance to revive some faith.

Dreamless sleep or sleepless dream, which is a better bet? The later is ecstatic but the former it at least not agonizing. . .