Out of every feeling a person can feel, the feel of dreaming is possibly the most intricate and specific feeling that one can experience. The fuzziness, how your memory works, and how easily you can accept all that is going on around you. Sometimes you gain consciousness in the middle of the dream, things have already happened, and you now have control, you know you are in your own head.
The girl with the raven black hair was dreaming, and she had just realized it. She was standing in the sunlight. She blinked, it was very bright. Things began to come into focus. A mossy cobblestone path, that stretched forward from under her feet. A luscious, vibrant garden decorated the sides of the path, spilling out from its constraints onto the stone. Viridian strands of grass stuck up from the grey path, the thin fibers blowing in the warm breeze.
The girl was wearing a simple black dress, and was barefoot. She walked forward gingerly, careful not to trod on the flowers in the garden. She weaved back and forth between them, and began to giggle. Then she looked up, and saw what ended the path. Her giggling faded.
About ten feet from where she was standing the path stopped abruptly in a stone slab that was not quite a wall. It looked to be around twelve feet high but only six, the width of the path, wide. At the base of the slab sat a simple stone garden bench. Sitting on this bench was another girl. She wore a white dress, and was similarly barefoot. She looked sad, not quite depressed, but her tight brow and watery eyes definitely indicated a dark mood. A limp, wilted flower drooped from her hand. It had clearly once been a vibrant red, but as the girl with the raven black hair watched, it became darker, fading to a dead black.
The girl with the raven black hair loved this other girl with everything she owned. She wanted to be there with her, to sit next to her and kiss her and love her. She took a step towards her. If the girl on the bench noticed, she did not indicate it. Another step. And than a third. She could see tears welling in her eyes, and a butterfly pin in her hair. Another step. Now she could smell her, and it was the best thing she had ever smelled.
She took a final step, almost there. That was when the stone under her foot gave, and crumbled. She pushed forward, desperately reaching for the girl, the bench, anything but it was to no avail. Her body tipped forward and down, away from her love and into blackness. Then there was nothing but the sensation of falling. The girl with the raven black hair screamed, and woke.