Some kind of storm was building out on the horizon. She wasn’t sure why there should be a storm at all, really, or even where the horizon ended and the nearness began. But she did know that the huge, massed, yellow-bellied clouds were slowly, oh so slowly, coming towards her. She felt an odd reluctance at the thought, and she deliberately lifted her eyes away from the dull flashes of lightning deep within the belly of the stormy beast.
The view above her was much more pleasant, in any case. She leaned back to settle on the grass and took a deep breath of the warm, sweet air. The sky above her was all dark purple-black, and shiny with stars and galaxies, soft with the velvet of half-formed wishes. It was like looking into a pool of water that never ended, that just consisted of ripples all the way down, deeper and deeper into…something. Or maybe nothing. She thought, for a moment, that maybe it was supposed to be both. Almost despite herself, her eyes twitched to watch the coming thunderheads, just for a second.
It wasn’t fair. She didn’t want to leave this place. Whatever it was. Better than where she’d been before, anyway, of that she was sure.
Where she’d been before was…she didn’t want to think about that, either. Besides, not thinking about it was easier. She couldn’t remember much of it anyway, except for a big blast of light, and a sound almost like a voice. Maybe hers? She wasn’t sure; she’d never heard it. She didn’t really want to know anyway.
Her eyes drifted towards the storm again. It was getting closer; she could feel the first wisps of water in the wind that tugged playfully at the ends of her hair.
A nightmare.
The word wandered through her head and stuck on the big, black-yellow bruise of a cloud moving in from the horizon. Yes, that seemed right. Nightmares, coming to block out the pretty swirl of galaxies and nebulae in the sky that seemed just a breadth away from her outstretched fingertips.
Well. That would make this a dream, then. The idea didn’t disturb her as it probably should have. It did seem a bit like a dream. A good one, at least. Her head lolled back and she watched the stars again. She noted absently that they moved a little; the swirls and whorls of far-off stars and planets glided silently in concentric circles, meshing and moving and somehow never meeting.
Never meeting. Lonely. Secluded and held in warm, comforting blackness, with only the light of other bodies for context and company.
Like her. She understood them, and she wondered if that was part of the dream too, or just part of her.
Maybe this wasn’t her dream at all. Maybe it belonged to someone else entirely. That thought gave her pause for the first time. Maybe the nightmare coming towards her on the wind was there for someone else. Even as she considered this, she knew that it couldn’t be true. It was coming for her, alright. She could feel it, behind her eyes and in the small place in her mind that wondered if she was sleeping or awake.
There was an ominous rumbling in the distance. The sound was more felt than heard. Thunder in her bones, and surely that would wake her up, wouldn’t it? But nothing changed, except that the wind grew colder.
Maybe she really was awake, then. It didn’t matter, in the end. Or maybe it did. Maybe dreams were all there was to begin with anyway.
Maybe she was always asleep. Maybe everyone was.
That must be it, she decided. This could be her dream, and still be someone else’s, everyone else’s, too. It was both.
The storm was nearly on her, now. Somehow, getting up and moving, running, trying to outpace the great outpouring of the dooming clouds never occurred to her. This wasn’t that kind of dream. She looked up at the sky again, but now half of it was covered with the dark gray storm. The thunder grew louder, and the rain began to pelt her face.
She was forced to squint a bit in order to see the stars, now. They were being blotted out, one by one. She wondered if the clusters and galaxies of lights still moved in their vast, tireless circles far above her, or if they ceased to be as soon as they were blocked from her sight.
For a moment, she wished she knew the answer. Then she would know if this was her dream, or someone else’s.
As the lightning started to crackle overhead, she had one last look at the huge, firefly-twinkling sky of revolving stars, and she had a strange, still feeling that she was looking at herself. Perhaps that was it. Maybe each of those lights, those stars floating up above her just out of reach behind the clouds, were all just girls sitting on hills. Maybe there was someone just like her, staring up and watching as one light in the thousand million grayed out, swallowed by an unseen cloud of nightmares.
In a way, that gave her comfort. At least it meant that someone was watching. Someone, at least, knew her. Even if this was just a dream. She hoped it was going better for the other lights in the sky.
And then the nightmare broke over her in lashing wind and pounding rain, and lightning scorched the sky and hurt her eyes. In the midst of the deluge and the roaring sound, she saw a bright light and heard a horrible sound, and she wondered if this wasn’t the real nightmare after all.
She closed her eyes and curled up in the wet grass, and hugged her knees to her chest and began to rock.
She remembered, now.
“Please,” she whispered, lost in the unhearing clouds and the faraway sky and the strength of the storm. “Please, don’t wake up.”
But it was too late. Because this wasn’t her dream after all, and even as her eyes began to droop, she fought the inevitable long enough to watch the clouds above her dissolve, fade away, blow into the something and the nothing of the starry sky.
And then her eyes closed, and the dream ended.
Somewhere on another hilltop, a boy looking up at the great wheeling of the cosmos saw a tiny little star go out, and wondered why the sight of it made him shiver.
