How does one measure trust in increments of time?
Occasionally, she believes that she was placed here to experience as much as humanly possible. (At least, here, in this little corner of the world, on this planet in this universe: the smallest blip, if ever there even was a blip.)
Lately she's dreamt of baby animals.
These are not kind dreams.
In the first dream, she found herself caring for a baby rabbit. He was khaki-colored with floppy ears. He was tiny, and he was unwell. She held him with her right hand, grasping underneath his front legs, so that his bunny shoulders were hunched up. Underneath his fur she felt toothpick ribs, a heartbeat (reassuring, but fast, so fast), and a tummy ballooning in and out with each breath. She held him close to her chest but let him face forward so that he could see what they were dealing with.
He was then ripped away from her.
She awoke, and gasp-yelped as a rabbit would, grinding her teeth as they do.
There was no immediate analysis to be made of the dream.
And there seems to be no quantifiable amount of time in which trust can be regained.
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