As she rested in her bedroom,
she looked up,
blinded by a blank light shining down
from a spirit she never knew, but  to whom she was loyal.
The hazy evening skies and the bright sun setting under the horizon
joined to form a seasonable warmth.  
This did not seem to bother her, though,
as she sat on her cot,
a musty dilapidated mattress stained red
like the sky on a summer morning
blue like the veins that flowed through her body,
dried out and callous like her Navajo homelands.

She read Dostoyevsky with a certain ease.
Einstein wandered into her spirit
for a lesson she would never learn.

She looked up again,
saw the sun become the moon, and wondered why that was.
The moon rays and the sun beams continued to shine down on her,
as her mother glanced through the bedroom door,
telling her to stop dreaming
and finish reading her Crime and Punishment.

She looked at her mother with her pearly eyes and asked
"Mother, is my dreaming bothering you?"