A Dream Weaver

Authors note: So normally I don't write author's notes, so this is quite new to me. I was challenged by Rhondalise Mitza to write about something positive. As she would've put it "Where's the love in the world, Anna?" Well, Rhondalise, it isn't in my writing but hey, I tried to write something so happy It would make you puke rainbows and fart butterflies. Well, here's your positive short story, enjoy it in your honeysuckle garden atop cloud nine as you enjoy fine dining with your adorable dogs from Narnia.

Dreams litter the night sky like stars. Some burn out, with either the passion of supernovas or slowly yet surely dulling. But some burn brighter than life itself, sparkling and shining and the option of a slow death only an afterthought, not worthy of its attention.

My arms reach out towards a galaxy of dreams and I pluck one out of the night sky. It seems like strangeness and nonsense to you, but dream reading is like the universe itself, endless. Lucky for me though, I know how to control it. The dream twinkles like a diamond and slowly gives way to a young girl's sleepy desires. Most are what is commonly found in a young girl's mind, princesses and pony’s, and other expected fantasies. But there’s one dream in particular that catches my eye.

I twirl the dream around my finger and watch as its shape bends and twists in its irregular shape, as hazy as mist yet its image stronger than looking in a looking glass. The dream continues to swirl in a variety of shapes before I come to the pool. Its water purer than peace and its reflection clearer than all the days I’ve lived. I see my own dazzling eyes reflected back at me, the color up to those to gaze at me to decide. My hair runs past your breaking point, my skin the shade of a thousand voyages, and my lips turn up towards the corners of your wisdom.

I slowly set the dream down into the pool and watch as it dissolves in a stream of colors and pictures. A mist forms at the top of the pool before fading into a stream of bubbles. Those bubbles shape into butterflies as those butterflies part into the shapes of doves.

I hold my breath and let myself free fall into the pool. Tendrils of water brush up against my arms like rich silk, it runs through my hair like a light breeze and teases me with its ever-changing current.

My feet reach the soft ground with the weight of a thousand feathers. Particles of dust and other small things swirl around the crown of my head as I take in my surroundings. I’m standing a short distance away from a mirror that reflects the image of the young girl standing in front of it. That appears to be the only thing in the atmosphere, the rest appears to just be a blank sheet of white.

The mirror seems to function as a regular mirror, whatever the girl moves the girl in the reflection moved as well. The girl would dance, and the reflection would dance too. She would yawn and the reflection would yawn in perfect imitation.

I watched it in awe for a moment before switching the perspective. I stand in front of the girl that isn’t in the mirror and notice that she is slightly more rounded and weighty than the one reflected in the mirror. Both the reflected girl and the real girl wore a placid smile on there face. The real girl then proceeded to frown at herself, as if realizing the difference in the images along with me. She then proceeded to shove the mirror over and watched it shatter into a cloud snow-like particles.

I assumed that this dream was of self-acceptance. She knew that she didn’t have to be the girl in the mirror, she just had to be herself. The image then switches to that of a new dream.

We’re in a beautiful forest, filled with multiple ferns and beautiful, strong evergreens. There’s a stream nearby filled with colorful fish and surrounded by flowering plants, but the one thing that catches my eye is the huge wooden grandfather clock that towers above the scenic mountains in the distance.

My hands brush up against ferns littered with dew as I watch the little girl in the distance. She seems to be watching the butterflies as they taunt her with fluttering wings and mesmerizing patterns. They flit around the crown of her head but scatter when a large "dong" is heard in the distance.

Mine and the girl's heads swerve around and, unsurprisingly, find that it was the clock chiming. It chimes another ten times, signaling that it was eleven in the morning before I turn my attention back towards the girl.

The girl starts running franticly towards the clock. She stumbles around overgrown roots and flowering bushes before halting next to the clock. She pressed something along the side of the western wall of the clock and stumbles inside. I chase after her, my footfalls like rain as I brushed the drops of Jupiter that had accumulated in my hair due too the humid atmosphere.

I come to a landing that's surrounding by thousands of gears, each one its own unique shape and creates its own special ticking sound. In the center of the clock is a wide staircase, weaving in and out of the gears. The girl is slowly, yet surely mounting them. I follow suit and easily bypass her. I then proceed to wait for her atop the wooden landing.

She stepped atop the landing and ran through a set of wooden oak doors that were behind me. They were already open, and I follow her into the open sky, almost teetering off the edge of the clock I take in my surroundings.

We're on the face of the clock, I jump backward as the minute's hand moves past me, it's silver glistening in the midday sun. My eyes search for the girl and I find her perched atop the clocks hour hand as she pushes it, slowly speeding up the time within the clock.

I notice the more the hour hand moved, the darker the sky got. This continued until a few hours after twilight. The starry night sky was mesmerizing. We both looked at it in awe before the girl threw her arms up in one swift movement. Almost on cue, the stars spread and molded into memories, dreams, and all possibilities.

She spread her arms out again to find that the stars would bend at her will. She giggled as she drew patterns in the sky. Unicorns and kittens danced across the galaxy, the girl's hands dancing in tune.

I smile as I watched the younger girl learning play with the feats of the Milkyway. I knew she could sense my presence, she just chooses not to look at me. I became aware this because I remember seeing myself all those years ago, staring at me as I played with those stars, wishing I could show them all the way to there destiny.

How do I know this you may ask? The answer is simple.

That girl was me.