fell asleep inside a fantasy and woke up feeling lost —
She is lost, but she does not remember how she got this way.
She remembers falling asleep, in a familiar meadow with familiar clover and a familiar moon suspended in a blue-black sky. Wrapped in the warmth of summer night air and moonlight draped across her shoulders, her dreams were all the same things she had dreamed before – except for this one.
It is the golden light of dawn warming her face that urges her silver eyes to open, hazy with sleep. She blinks away the fog, waiting for the land of her dreamscape to fade and give way to the world that she knows.
It doesn’t, though.
The sleep clears and the land around her solidifies itself, loses all the intangibility of a dream-world, and builds itself into a reality. Slowly, almost cautiously, she rises from the bed of clover – the same thing she had fallen asleep in and yet not the same at all. She looks around again with moonlit-colored eyes, and inhales the summer-sweet air, and she wills the panic rising up in her throat to disappear. No matter how she tried to get her bearings, this meadow refused to be familiar to her. The sea of emerald grasses, dotted with wildflowers and trees, and the water that crisscrossed through it and glittered under the rays of the sun were similar to where she had been born, and yet were somehow drastically different.
She is here, and she does not know how this could possibly be, or even where here is.
She feels like an intruder; as if she has trespassed into a wonderland, and when she finally begins to walk through the meadow it is with tentative steps and a downcast face hidden behind the long waves of her forelock. It must be obvious that she does not belong, a weed that has invaded their garden.
When she does finally look up it is to look at the sky, wondering if the sun will lead her home.
She remembers falling asleep, in a familiar meadow with familiar clover and a familiar moon suspended in a blue-black sky. Wrapped in the warmth of summer night air and moonlight draped across her shoulders, her dreams were all the same things she had dreamed before – except for this one.
It is the golden light of dawn warming her face that urges her silver eyes to open, hazy with sleep. She blinks away the fog, waiting for the land of her dreamscape to fade and give way to the world that she knows.
It doesn’t, though.
The sleep clears and the land around her solidifies itself, loses all the intangibility of a dream-world, and builds itself into a reality. Slowly, almost cautiously, she rises from the bed of clover – the same thing she had fallen asleep in and yet not the same at all. She looks around again with moonlit-colored eyes, and inhales the summer-sweet air, and she wills the panic rising up in her throat to disappear. No matter how she tried to get her bearings, this meadow refused to be familiar to her. The sea of emerald grasses, dotted with wildflowers and trees, and the water that crisscrossed through it and glittered under the rays of the sun were similar to where she had been born, and yet were somehow drastically different.
She is here, and she does not know how this could possibly be, or even where here is.
She feels like an intruder; as if she has trespassed into a wonderland, and when she finally begins to walk through the meadow it is with tentative steps and a downcast face hidden behind the long waves of her forelock. It must be obvious that she does not belong, a weed that has invaded their garden.
When she does finally look up it is to look at the sky, wondering if the sun will lead her home.
Elestren
