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Show SIGHT Hunt could not open his eyes. He had a dream in which he stood, it seemed forever, polishing objects: glass, ceramics, oiled wood. He would polish them, then lay them out on counters, tables. When the dream first started, he had thought he was emptying the dishwasher. But that was wrong. He was shining. He was rubbing highly glazed and reflective things. With a small cloth. There was a huge hall filled with narrow tables from which all these highly polished things shone. Almost like light sources in themselves. But when Hunt woke from the dream of his polishing, he could not open his eyes. He sat up. "Something the matter?" Leah rolled slightly in her place and asked. "... Hunt?" II T II "What?" "... I can't .. ." "What?" "Open my eyes." "Oh, Jesus - Hunt!" She rolled over and looked up. "I'm serious." "You mean in addition to your little love-pet Anne and all the other reasons that you're going to leave the boys and me in two months -- you mean, to tell me that I've blinded you too?" |