THE MYSTICAL MIRROR (THE MISTRESS OF MAGIC)

CH-2 THE CITY OF LIGHTS

I suddenly wake up, panting. Rachel, who is sitting next to me, asks with a worried expression, "You okay?"

I nod. "How long have I been sleeping for?"

"About two hours," she replies.

I look to the seat near the aisle and see Phoebe with her phone in her hands. She is probably texting her dumb friends about how she is going to Paris, the fashion capital, and is going to post the best pictures ever. And her friends would reply with "OMG! You are going to have so much fun there! LOL."

Even though there is nothing funny about it because they are just going to be jealous of her. But, they are still going to like her picture. Honestly, I don't understand people sometimes.

Phoebe sees me staring at her and snaps, "What? You don't have anything else to do in your life?"

Normally, I would say something sarcastic. But I am so shaken from the strange dream I had, that I just turn my head towards the window.

I still don't understand why I saw that dream. Is it because I miss my Dad so much that I start seeing him in a surreal world? Or because it really happened at some point in his life?

Most probably it's the former option, but for some reason, I can't get rid of the thought that my father at some time must have had the most extraordinary powers ever.

Of course, this isn't true and I am just imagining things because I've just read too many fantasy novels.

But one thing still bothers me- the purple light in the scene. That shade has an uncanny resemblance to something else I saw today. It could be just a coincidence that the same purple shade appeared in my dream as well.

I turn towards Rachel, who is now watching some show on the screen in front of her with her headphones on.

I tap on her shoulder. She removes the headphones and asks, "What?"

I clear my throat and ask, "Do you still remember Angelica?"

Her eyes widen. "The girl with the purple eyes?" She confirms in an almost whisper-like tone.

I nod and say, "I felt really weird around her, you know, almost like I was about to cry."

Rachel puts on a confused expression. "Cry? I was pretty scared of her. I mean she looked like someone who was straight out of a horror movie."

I raise my eyebrow and taunt her, "Well, you looked pretty confident for someone who had just seen a person they're afraid of."

"What was I supposed to do? Should I have started saying, 'Hi, you scare the hell out of me, and you look like a witch.' Huh, Carry?" Rachel points out.

She is not wrong. But still, how is it possible that a teenage girl could make one person sad and the other afraid?

I would tell Rachel about my dream, but not now, not here. I know that just hearing my father's name would bring her to tears and I don't want to cause chaos on the plane.

Instead, I say, "Maybe it's us, going to Paris, away from our home. We must be imagining things."

She looks at me skeptically but instead of arguing, she simply puts her headphones back on.

I am not lying but do I believe that myself? No. I know there is something weird about that girl. And deep down, I know she is related to my dream. But why Dad, and why today? I haven't even seen Aunt yet. There is absolutely nothing that would remind me of him today.

I am deciding one thing. I am not telling anyone about these dreams unless I know more, which is highly unlikely.

I try to go back to sleep but that doesn't seem to happen, so instead, I call the air hostess and ask her what is available for lunch. Since we are traveling by first class, thanks to our Aunt, there seem to be like a thousand options for food. After what is like an hour of the air hostess's recitation of the number of meals they had, I ask her for a simple mac and cheese with coke.