It crawls into that dark and empty space. It wraps its gnarly claws around me. Grabbing me, suffocating me. It is the colours of the night; colours of the day. It blinds, weeps, scares it away. This dream it holds me, cherishes me, frightens me. Nothing to it though; in the end, it’s a dream.
I saw him standing in the mirror. My prince. He called to me. Called me to the mirror. The mirror, I could not, should not step into the mirror. But he called.
I touched his hand through the glass. My Prince should save me. But he couldn’t. I pulled away. He was but a dream.