When she was a little girl in Poland the woman had the same reoccurring dream:

She was in a field, or wait, maybe she was the field? No, she was just a flower growing in the middle of it. No, she was a cow eating the flower; that seems more correct. A wolf came out of the nearby forest and clamped onto the cow's neck and then ate the cow and she was the wolf too, of course. On her way back to the tree-line of the forest she was also a hunter with a nondescript gun who shot the wolf in the spine and then walked out of the trees to still the kicking animal with a slash to the throat with a nondescript knife. Suddenly a car would jump over the horizon like a cartoon and plow right over the hunter leaving red tire marks as it screeched to a halt, and she was the pretty blond lady that got out of the car with her hand over her mouth and who couldn't quite make sense of what she had done. She wasn't the next thing that attacked the pretty blond lady and left her torn open in the middle of the field (she never got a good look at that) but she was a flower that sprang up from the corpse.

Her mother had thought this an odd dream for a six year old girl to have and told her to keep it to herself.

The woman hadn't had the dream in years, and had in fact forgotten about it entirely, but lately it had come back. She understandably wasn't very happy with this, and she also wasn't very happy with the random daydreams she'd been having ever since she'd started having the dream again. She'd started praying the rosary a lot more.

The girl on the subway across from the woman rarely remembered her dreams, but that night she had a nightmare about a red spider with long thin legs bouncing and moving with precision on a web of varicose blue.