A smothering

In the dream there was wet cloth over her face, and when she peeled it away she found another layer, and another. When she woke, she could still feel it there, suffocating her, blinding her. She lived that way for years, afraid to dream, but hopeful, too, that the next layer of dream-cloth might be the last. Bolts and bolts of it, and gallons of water, until one night she dreamed a different dream, and breathed again.