And I...
Know it's true,
That visions are seldom all they seem.
It was nothing, nothing at all. Just a little prick, and then she was falling asleep again, dreaming again. Because she didn't want to face reality, she just wanted to go back to bed and dream her little dreams and forget, forget everything.
She was dancing on thorns, on shards of glass and pieces of shattered memories. Her bare feet were bleeding, and her prince held her tighter, she was suffocating, she was choking, she was falling asleep again, drowsiness overtaking her body, despite the needling sharp pains in her feet, and yet she danced on, circling and spinning in her trance.
Because what had she ever had? No knowledge of her betrothal, her birthright, not even her own name, and they just want her to accept it, accept your new reality and go back to sleep, back in the tower and dream on and on...
The enchanted spinning wheel was nothing - that curse could be broken. It didn't supply her with anything like this, these feelings of happiness, of escape. She was dreaming, she was dancing, not on thorns, but on clouds, clouds spun from opium threads, and sprinkled poppy seeds, and there it was, her spindle, her needle, and now she could dream whatever she wanted.
She dreamed of handsome princes on horseback and dragons breathing green fire; of a dark, thorn-circled tower under a perfect silver moon. She danced from dream to nightmare, whisked away from her forest home and locked away, back in the tower, the spinning wheel before her, calling her with its false promises, jumbling her memories until she could no longer tell dream from nightmare, reality from fantasy. She dreamed of her prince and her kingdom, squirrels and rabbits in boots, a black sorceress, with wings like a crow, and little fairies waving wands over her head.
Beauty for the tiny princess. Golden hair, blue eyes, and fair features. Beautiful in consciousness, and beautiful in sleep.
A song for the sweet princess. A voice like the nightingale, to sing of her dreams.
A curse upon the little princess. To sleep forever, cold and alone, without the warmth of her dreams to comfort her.
A promise for the sleeping princess;
Someone will come to save you.
