The sun shone bright in the sky, partially obscured by a thin veil of clouds as a gentle mist rolled across the empty plains of grain. The sensation was at once familiar and alien, as the rolling plain stretched off into distant mountains. In the heart of the field, a figure stirred, exciting the wind across the plain. Clumsily the figure clambered to its feet and strode across the plain quickly, almost floating.
“Where?” thought the strange entity, searching the horizon for a sense of orientation. Almost as if to answer the question, the entity noticed a worn, bronze mirror staring out at the vast plain about twenty yards away. Again, the presence wove its way deftly through the world soaking in the exquisite feeling of the grain’s cradling and bending.
As it approached the entity noticed the unreasonable size of the mirror, almost towering above it, much like the grain. Closer and closer, the reflection twisted and churned, until suddenly the reflection hit the creature’s eyes with force. A small girl stared back into the eyes of the presence. She had small frail limbs and bright, round, almond colored eyes. Her pouty lips rested just bellow a cute button nose. Deep chestnut brown skin with hair neatly pulled back into a pair of small Afro puffs towards the back of her head.
Abigail stared at her own reflection in stupefied amazement, it was her, but not at all the present her. She stared at a distant version of herself from roughly twelve years ago. She had only ever seen herself like this in her grandmother’s old photo albums and distant snatches of memories. She even sported the same lilac church dress and sandals her grandmother always forced her to wear on every special occasion.
Looking down at her hands for confirmation, she counted her fingers, one, two, three, four, five, six? Her elongated fingers warped and stretched into an additional pair of hands as she studied them carefully while them turning over? Then the words of her old teacher clicked in her mind “Don’t forget to perform reality checks frequently.” With effort Abigail managed to push her fingers through her forehead and could feel the buzzing frenetic energy of her brain before carefully removing them.
“I am dreaming.” She said, resolutely convinced. And indeed she was, this was the first lucid dream she had for almost half a year. She had grown so complacent with not having them she had allowed herself the luxury of not performing reality checks. Abigail’s nine-year-old eyes studied the landscape, searching for a settlement to discover. All she could make out in the distance was a lone oak tree she hadn’t noticed before stretching into the sky in a distant part of the field.
“May be worth a look” Abigail muttered, “But first these hands.” She stared down at her deformed dual hands sprouting from the ends of her wrist and with great concentration willed them to reform into the shape of ordinary human hands. Before her eyes the hands illusory hands merged with her true flesh and vanished, leaving behind nothing but two perfectly proportioned five fingered hands, each at the end of two spindly limbs.
Abigail returned her gaze to the mirror and decided the body of a nine-year-old girl was not befitting and willed herself to grow, but to no avail. “Hmm, strange,” She thought. “I can’t grow…” As far as she could remember from her old sessions with her teacher, she should have majestic powers, here in her dreams she should be able to wield terrible and awesome powers and yet, nothing. She couldn’t even fly. But she was unreasonably fast here, especially for a nine year old. She turned elegantly on her heel and strode towards the great oak tree.