This time there is no fire or stars.

I am not living in an apocalypse; I'm in the back of my elementary school auditorium. Rows of plastic chairs set up just for this event are filled with adults talking amongst themselves while the orchestra warms up squeakily.

Outside, rain pounds angrily against the windows, the outer affects of some thunderstorm that was halfway to flooding my small town.

I know when I am, where I am - my 4th grade orchestra recital, when I played a solo on my violin. I know I'm dreaming, flashing back to a turning point in my life. But I'm too curious to wake myself up.

On the stage, the red curtains rustle as a face sticks out from the wings. It's my face, circa 2001, wide-eyed and nervous. My mom had curled my hair that morning and a gold bow was pinned at my temple.

My mom is nowhere to be seen. Neither is my dad - if I can call him that. The two of them were stuck at their respective jobs because of the slight flooding. I remember how scared I was that they wouldn't show up. I can see that fear loud and clear on my young face, which sneaks back into wings.

A man passes me, and I tap him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, sir, what time is it?"

He doesn't reply. Doesn't react at all. I didn't expect him to, of course, but I wanted to make sure I truly was dreaming.

I weave through the throng of parents, making my way to the stage door, where young me is now standing talking to my music teacher. I haven't seen Mrs. Schuyler in years, but I remember her stern blue eyes and young face perfectly.

"But, but, Mrs. Schuyler!" Young me splutters in a sweet little voice. "My parents aren't here yet! I can't go on without them!"

"AJ," Mrs. Schuyler replies with a sigh, pinching her pale nose. "The rain isn't going to let up. I'm sorry, but I don't think your parents are going to make it in time."

"That's not fair!" Young me wails. "There has to be something you can do."

"I can't stop the rain, AJ. Only God can do that."

Young Me's eyes light up. "We learned about Greek gods in social studies today!"

"That's great, AJ, really, but-"

"Apollo was the god of music and the sun," Young Me interrupts matter-of-factly. "If I asked him, do you think he could help with the recital?"

"Sweetheart, the Greek gods aren't real," Mrs. Schuyler says. But Young Me, ever rebellious, has already clasped my hands together and started to pray.

How did I forget about this?

"Dear Apollo," Young Me says gently. "I really like playing violin and I really want to play it for my parents but it's raining too hard and it's flooding really badly and they can't drive here so can you please make it sunny out and clear up the floods and help me do good for my parents thanks and amen."

Mrs. Schuyler winces at my run-on sentence, but Young Me just looks up at the windows, practically willing the rain to go away.

And just like that... it does.

The rain comes to a slow stop, the clouds parting to show the bright shine of the sun. Young Me holds my hand up to shield my eyes from the sudden glare.

"Oh my..." Mrs. Schuyler trails off. "Well, would you look at that. I suppose your parents may be able to come now."

"YAY!" Young Me yells, a little too loud. "I'm gonna go warm up!"

And with that, Young Me runs back into the wings, Mrs. Schuyler following, the stage door shutting behind us. Current me, dreamy me, smiles ever so slightly.

I turn to look at the window, and I realize that had to have been Apollo's work. I straight-up prayed to him, and then that happened. And later, in real life, my parents arrived and I did amazing on my solo - well, as amazing as I could do as a 4th grader.

Maybe Apollo really does care, even slightly.

Maybe I should pick up the violin again.

Before I can think about it, I feel myself being lifted from the dream. Sunshine filters through my eyelids, turning everything gold. I blink twice, and once again, I'm lost in reality.