Nunca pinto sueños o pesadillas, Pinto mi propia realidad

I am asleep. Something, a sound, causes me to wake up in the middle of the night. I hear something outside, and I go out to the porch. There's a girl there. Her hair is long and brown. She is dressed in white, her face is in her hands, and she is crying. I want to comfort her, so I put my arms around her. I ask her what's the matter, but she doesn't answer. She just keeps crying. I tell her, "It's okay. It's all going to be okay." I examine her, trying to make sure she's not hurt. For some reason, I'm afraid she might be bleeding. I pull her hands away from her face and smooth her hair back, and that's when the crying stops, and I see that she has no face.