17 year old Holly Crawford has always had a wild imagination. Growing up with her adopted family, she has had to learn that not everyone's dreams bleed into their waking hours, and that the Imaginary World she has built for herself can only be seen through her eyes. But... What if her visions aren't actually her's?
Waking suddenly from a dream, I sit up in my bed. The cold hits me immediately, forcing me back under to covers. I must have left the window open again. Freeing myself from my twisted blankets, I brush my white hair out of my face, and walk over to the window. Instead of closing it, I open the small glass door even wider, sticking my head out and leaning on the window sill. It's still early spring; the wind is cold and the stubborn icicle outside my window sends rainbows dancing around my room. I hear birds, and can smell coffee wafting up from the kitchen.
As I watch the sun rise, my thoughts turn back to the dream that woke me so suddenly: It was night, the sky was a purple-y black instead of dark blue, and the stars were gold. It felt like I was being carried by someone. The person tripped, but instead of hitting the ground, I kept falling. Falling and crying until I land in a pile of snow.
Strange. Though, I do have to admit, no stranger than any of my other dreams, day or night. Feeling twitchy and claustrophobic, I climb out my window and scramble up the roof. Straddling the summit, I sit and watch as the sun climbs the rest of the way into the sky, letting the cold breeze calm me down. The sun's light reflects off the thin, wispy clouds, making them look pink and orange against the blue. Down on the ground, the smell of pollen is almost over powering. Up here, it's just right.
After a while, I look over and see an old friend, curled up on the chimney. His eyes are only half open, and a small puff of smoke is blown out of his nostrils with each breath.
"Hey, Quasar, have you ever imagined what it would be like if the sky was a different color?" I call to him, hoping he might have some answers. At this, he just laughs. The dark sparkling dragon stretches, and climbs down. Walking along the peak of the roof, I can't help but think he how he looks like a large cat.
"What on earth do you mean? The sky has always been blue, has it not?" Quasar chuckles, screwing up his eyes against the now bright morning sun. His scales glitter and refract the light as he settles down, but he leaves no shadow. Nothing I dream up ever does.
I make a sour face at him. "It was a dream I had. The night sky was a dark purple instead of blue." I raise an eyebrow at him. "I may be crazy enough to dream you up, but I know what color the Earth's sky is."
This makes Quasar laugh even harder. "Oh? And whoever said you were creative enough to 'dream me up'"
"Right...Sometimes you make absolutely no sense, you know that?" I glance at him, then close my eyes and lean back, opening them to look up at the sky, now a soft baby blue. "I think it would be cool if the sky was purple. There are probably whole other worlds out there where the skies look all sorts of different colors."