I sighed happily, lost in a dream where it just kept getting better. I felt stardust sprinkle over my head, letting my dream turn bigger and better. I read this story where the little old lady told her goddaughter that "all dreams can't last forever" but I was having a really great one that was convincing me that I shouldn't wake up. I sighed contently. This is what being cherished must feel like.  It was the perfect temperature, so comforting, like a hug from the perfect person.  The feeling of being wanted was wrapped around me, tucked under my feet and under my chin. The greatest protective blanket.

What was I so worried about? Being alone? Living on my own without finding someone to share my life with? It would be completely fine if I led my life happy with myself. There would be nothing wrong with figuring out what made me happy. You couldn't depend on someone to fix you. Only you can.

The way this all started was a lot worse than where it was right now. 

It started as a nightmare. I was in my room back at the castle and everything was pitch black. Already the weight that I thought I had momentarily escaped had doubled over my chest. The air was so thick that it was hard to breathe. I half expected to find that I had been inhaling cotton balls. I was suffocating. I was shivering from the low temperature of the room, crying from fear, and my breath was coming out in short huffs. I didn't know why I was panicking. Sleep was a way to pause everything, right?

I felt the panic start to slither its way back into my mind. Should I start getting used to being alone? Would this be something that would happen often? Is this really what I wanted? This was bound to happen at some point. I was meant to repeat the same cycle over again. Why did I think everything would be okay? Who would be there to comfort me? I simply had to live through it.

Suddenly, and all at once, I could have sworn I heard someone say they've had enough. They were watching everything unfold for far too long and couldn't take it anymore. Their words didn't need to be spoken to me directly for me to understand that they were angry on my behalf. They were angry with me. Somehow, my warped mind immediately knew the person wasn't aiming the demand at me. It felt like they had flipped the light switch and let the warmth of the world back in. I took a deep breath with no difficulty. The light made the shadows retract back where they originated from. It didn't interest me in knowing where, as long as it was far away from me. As if they had a mind of their own, they hid and lingered behind to see the one who made them return to the far corners of my room. The entire space went from being covered in inky darkness to a welcomingly lit, sunny, orange room. The light waded through the open space through a window. It was as if I was dropped into a completely different dream. The ball of nerves started to unravel and I felt safe again.  

My eyes remained closed. I was sure that if I opened them, then I would be pulled from the dream as if it were a punishment for knowing too much. If I showed that I was aware of what was going on, maybe then this would all disappear from me. Maybe what I was feeling was a glimpse of something in my near future or maybe it was my life from another dimension. Someone came into the room I was laying down in, closing the door gently behind them as they stepped towards me. The door closed with a small click. I was trying to hide the fact that I was awake, I struggled to fight the smile that tugged at one corner of my lip, but I felt like the other person was watching me struggle and chose to ignore it. I was playing a game only both of us knew. I was laying on my side, hands clasped together and I had my knees basically pulled up to my chest. My two thumbs were pressed against my lips as I tried to stifle a laugh. They softly tugged my hair as if that would make me open my eyes and meet theirs. 

They laughed or sighed, or something between the two, before saying, "How ridiculous."

I couldn't tell you how deep or how low they said it. All I know is that the voice sent happiness through my body until my heart swelled. I shifted, my smile growing bigger by the second. I really felt like crying, laughing, and maybe a little sleepy all at once. I let a small laugh slip. I felt, as well as heard, their breath hitch and I squeezed my eyes tighter. I'm sure nothing about this was real. It was the kind of dream that made me forget about all the pain and fear I felt when I was awake. It was the type of dream where I knew that I couldn't stay as peaceful as I was because my bubble would burst as soon as I woke up. I would cry that the dream was over but I was glad that it gave me hope that one day in the future, there was a possibility of having a reality just as sweet.

Wishful thinking, considering what had happened before I fell into this wonderful dream.

In my dream, I didn't have to worry about my mother, the kingdom, or the fact that I'm flawed. All I had to focus on was my breathing and calming myself down. My eyes snapped open. There was an orange light and I squinted to see the blurry outline of wood burning.

I snapped upright in alarm. Fire?!?

Wait.

I heard the fireplace crackle and I was looking at the firewood as it burned. I looked away and back again. A fireplace? That would explain why I felt so warm and cozy. Why was I so close to it? If I got up to touch the wood, I could burn myself. Was this still part of the dream? 

I winced as my head hit me with flashes of reality. What it one day ago or two when I stopped to rest with the horse? There was a thunderstorm. 

"I don't understand." I put a hand on my forehead to see if I have a fever, but I don't feel hot," I thought I did everything right?. I made camp. Built the fireplace. So what did I-" 

The sound of rain played like a trained orchestra, triggering the memory of my absolute failure at trying to keep warm while it poured around the horse and me. That day it had also started to thunderstorm and the flat land was a bad place to be in if the lighting were to strike where they were. I remember thinking that my luck hasn't been too great lately for me to hope I wouldn't be the one that was struck. After that, I couldn't remember leaving and finding shelter. 

 It started to rain and it turned my firepit into a pile of mud and sticks. It turned into a thunderstorm, there weren't any caves to hide in so I led my horse to lay down with me under one of the thicker trees. Lightning? My horse almost kicked me and it ran away, leaving me behind, running off into the unknown. A large branch had groaned before cracking and splitting and swinging in my direction. I tried to run away from it, but something happened, and then I passed out.

"Ugh, I feel like I've been put through the wringer." I groaned, trying to stand up but giving up.

I pat myself down. I'm dry and there isn't a scratch on my uniform. My hair is down. One minute I was in the forest during a thunderstorm and am pretty sure I got hit by a falling tree. The next minute, I'm in a small place with my hair down in front of a fireplace with a blanket.

"Did... Did I just unalive? Because of a tree?" I groaned, turning away from the fire and snuggling into the crook of my arm, "I'm never gonna live that down. Oh, haha, so funny."

Figures! The first time I want to do something by myself, I die. I was in way over my head. Everything I knew but never practiced: the training sessions that lasted for hours, camping trips where I learned skills to be resourceful, and running onto the medical field to aid guards were no use to me if I was dead. How could I face my dad like this? What type of life did I live? I always lived with the "A child of the prophecy" looming over my head -

"Another day, mother. The dawn hath broken the night sky. A fair maiden hath appeared to be in distress. The clouds fell and the trees were shaking. I came to her aid and made sure her health was stable. Being cursed to immortality can maketh thee wish one could float 'mongst the heavens. To see an angel's halo and, mother, to seeth thy visage wouldst giveth me so much joy 'twill spilleth from mine own eyes." I hear a broken sigh.

That's a really great poem, I think, incredibly impressed but still a little bitter over the fact that I died. It sounds like Shakespeare. The person has a way with words. I could feel the emotion laid thick in their voice. They must have been an actor when they were alive. About a whole minute later (my thoughts were passing in slow motion), I jerk to a standing position, nearly tripping over myself in the process. The blanket I didn't notice was on me had fallen to the floor. 

Someone else was here?