Wind ruffled through the flowers, teasing them into flounces. Yellow pollen danced on the wind, swirling in the sunlight above a lumpy gray rock. As the wind paused, the pollen settled to the rock, dusting it into a rough desert color. Sunlight shimmered on the field and the rock yawned and began to stretch. It licked its paws with a rough tongue and looked about with liquid eyes. It stood and paced in the sunlight, feeling the warmth of the sun, the cool grass, and the ripple of the returning wind. It shook itself in the breeze, the pollen dancing from its coat in a symphony of aroma, vivid and alive. The yellow storm mixed with the dust of the field and slipped into a shape that danced in the air. The shape flicked dust-ears and looked down with leaf-eyes, and a voice spoke into the rock as their eyes found each other's.
"Granddaughter-"
--
She woke in the darkness, disturbed by her own fitful movement in the dream that fell about her. Sleepily, she reached for the fragments and tried to return, but the magic was broken. Shards of the memory lay about her imagination like pieces of a broken mirror- big enough to show parts, but not the whole. It was gone, and only the fading warmth of the sunlight was left to comfort her. Kalea lay in bed, drinking in the last precious moments, unwilling to return to the reality outside. It had been so real; she needed to know what would happen next, what it was. It was something alive on the edge of her senses, as if she could reach through the fringe of reality and grab it. Tears slid down her cheeks as she tried, but her hands only gripped bed sheets and her mind stayed in the dark.
It was gone; she rubbed the dampness into her pillow and gave up. Sleep claimed her in the darkness, but it was done bringing dreams tonight. It sat on her indignantly instead, muttering about interruptions and a spoiled night's work.
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