I begin to realize, in the dream, that it's not my eyes I'm looking through. Whoever I'm seeing through steps away from the devastation of the storm and stumbles across a lifeless body. I wake the moment I realize it's mine.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
'Hush, hush!' I whispered; 'people can have many cousins and of all sorts, Miss Cathy, without being any the worse for it; only they needn't keep their company, if they be disagreeable and bad. — Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights