Dreams

Chapter 1

They say that when you're asleep your brain is incapable of creating a new face, so it just uses the face of someone you've met. It might not be someone you even consciously remember, and it won't necessarily act like they do in real life.

I guess that's why I dream about her so much. Or at least, that's what I tell myself, because it makes more sense than any other explanation I can think of. If I had a crush on her it would be understandable, but I don't even like her that much. I mean, don't get me wrong, she's gorgeous. Maribelle Watson, one of the most popular girls at our school, with big eyes and honey blonde hair. She walks like a ballet dancer, which she is, and she has dimples when she smiles, which isn't very often.

She's a bit of a snob. A clique girl, with her entourage kept tight around her, she rarely deigns to talk to anyone who falls short of perfect. She's certainly never talked to me. The inside of her locker is plastered with glossy photos of herself, and other dancers, in fancy costumes, their faces glowing, hers most of all. She looks the regal queen. Confident, and overly impressed with her own beauty.

But in my dreams she's different. She's alone, not followed by the gaggle of girls, giggling, with black around their eyes, wanting to be just like her. She's just her, dancing, talking, laughing. Taking me on strange adventures, through books I've read, to places far away.

Sometimes at school I find myself staring at her, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl I know from my dreams, if she's there. But I never see her. I've come to believe that the girl I know in my dreams is just a figment of my imagination, something my mind cooked up as an example of the most fun and interesting person possible. This girl just happens to have Maribelle's face I guess.

But I wish she was real. I wish it really was her, I wish I could know her. I wish I could talk to her, and go on real adventures.