Fantasy


All fantasy should have a solid base in reality.

- Max Beerbohm


The forest was oddly familiar. I had been here many times and tonight was no exception. I was looking up at the forest canopy, craning my neck to view the densely packed arrangement of leaves. It was thick, deep green in the night, with branches and boughs coming from all angles to create a thick blanket above me. Small patches of the sky were visible, in the rare places where the cover was thin, allowing me to gaze up at the stars. There were thousands, millions, more than I had ever seen in one place before. It was like a poster of the night sky that you could always find in a science lab, so clear I could pick out the few constellations I knew with ease. I let out a small sigh at the beauty of it, it almost didn't look real.

My gaze came back down to earth slowly, following the moonlight that broke through the foliage in thin rays – enough to provide me with light to analyse my surroundings. I found that I was dressed in hiking clothes; sturdy looking brown boots with classic blue drainpipe jeans tucked into them. My sweater was deep blue, and holding my hands in front of my face to inspect them, I could see I had a pair of fingerless, grey gloves on. I was dressed warmly, for the elements. I laughed quietly to myself at this fact.

I was dreaming, of course. There would be no way I would be surrounded by trees if I were conscious. I was your heat-loving girl, sunny beaches or dry landscapes equalled a happy Bella. Dripping foliage just did not factor into that equation.

Why I kept dreaming about forests was beyond me? There were certainly no forests like this in Phoenix, the place I resided with my mother, Renee, and her new husband Phil. I had never been a nature girl either, the very thought of 'outdoorsy' activities made my stomach churn. Who knew how many injuries I could inflict on myself in the wilderness? I wasn't the most coordinated soul, and everyone that had ever had the misfortune of being in gym with me knew it. I was forever coming home with bruises and scrapes from falling over or walking into things. It was no small miracle that I was not brain damaged, with the amount of head injuries I had received during the seventeen years I had been alive.

I felt myself begin to walk, without making a conscious decision to do so. Still, I reminded myself, this was a dream, and in dreams, anything could happen, especially when you had an imagination as overactive as mine. My other woodland dreams had started out in a similar fashion, always at night, and always with me walking somewhere. I was being drawn further into the woodland –gravity or a magnet – something was pulling me forward. My pace was fairly quick and it pleased me that my dream-self was not as clumsy as my real-self was. The foliage grew denser as I travelled, I found myself surrounded by green on all sides – leafy ferns, moss and a wide variety of trees. I didn't attempt to identify them, I felt no desire to stop and admire their vast trunks, or peer up to the canopy and wonder exactly how tall they were. My steps stayed in a straight line with no effort. Perhaps I had my own built in compass, leading me towards north.

"Bella."

I turned myself in the direction of the most perfect sound I had ever heard. I could only faintly pick out a figure in the blackest part of the forest. It was him. The unknown entity that often graced my dreams with his presence. At least, I thought it was a he. I had never actually seen he-it.... I cut my train of thought of there. Of course it's a he, I scolded myself. The velvety voice had a distinct masculine edge. Even with that, it was still beautiful, musical even. If I hadn't already known I was dreaming this would have been unadulterated proof. A voice like this was too perfect for reality, I often wondered if this voice was too perfect to even be in my dreams. How I could conjure up such a flawless sound was beyond me.

I had never seen him clearly before, my beautiful figment of my imagination, he was always in the shadows, always in front of me, but I could never quite get to him. This annoyed me. A voice as amazing as that had to belong to an equally amazing person. I longed to see him – to see if he lived up to what I imagined him to be like. From his outline, I knew he was tall, at least six foot, and that was it. My dreams evidently weren't as inventive as I thought they were, if that was all I could come up with. Tonight, with the moon-rays scattering behind him I noticed his tousled hair. At first glance, it looked messy, but on closer analysis, it was a very styled and controlled messy. Mr. Unknown was obviously going for the bed-head look.

"Bella," His voice was softer now, saturated with some unknown emotion. I stared harder at him. I couldn't tell what he was wearing – a jacket perhaps? Or was it a sweater? It didn't matter, for my eyes were drawn to a much more striking feature. His eyes. The moonlight illuminated them in the most peculiar way, fiving me a completely new view of them. They were bright, like in a horror movie – when all you see of the predator is its shining eyes in the dark, however they didn't invoke fear within me. Instead, they were intriguing and I couldn't help but stare at them. I realised I'd been holding my breath – who knew you could do that in a dream – and let it go shakily. The colour was the most interesting – a brilliant shade of liquid gold. Beautiful.

I tilted my head to the side in confusion, trying to gain some new perspective on the strange colour of his eyes. It couldn't be a trick of the light, but how else could you explain it? I had heard of pink eyes before, but never gold. I'd never seen anything like it before. It was almost unnatural. I knew I should be shocked, wasn't that the normal reaction to the unknown? Instead, I was intrigued; the force that pulled me into the forest willed me to go closer. I wanted to go closer.

Hesitantly I lifted my right foot and placed it in front of my left. My muscles responded slowly, making my curiosity ever more present. After that step I stopped. Should I move closer? Did he want me to move closer? I'm sure my indecision was present in my eyes. My open book – my mother called me. He could probably tell exactly what I was thinking...

"Don't be afraid."

I took another shaky step forward and another, closing the gap between us ever so carefully – as if one sudden movement could burst the bubble, break the uneasy quiet of the forest and cause him, being a dream after all, to disappear.

I was so close now. I reached out my hand to touch the figures face as I noticed him moving towards the light. I could almost see him clearly, just a few more steps and I'd be able to put a face to the wonderful voice.

A shrill noise pierced the silence, halting my progress. My hand hovered inches from his cheek. It was a beeping sound, growing louder and infinitely more annoying by the second. He froze and I looked frantically around me to find out where the noise was coming from. What could possibly make a noise like that in a forest? I turned back to him, hoping that he could provide me with an answer, to find him gone. I was alone.

"Bella?" It was a different voice this time. Faint, feminine and definitely not his. I heard it again, calling my name, louder this time, calling me back to reality.

My eyes slowly opened to find my mother standing over me. She generally did this when I didn't respond to my alarm clock accordingly. However, I hadn't been expecting her quite so close. I gasped in surprise and rolled over, realising too late that this was the wrong move. I tumbled off the bed, hitting my hard wooden bedroom floor, imprisoned in my bedclothes. My sheets were bound tightly around my legs making it darn near impossible to move, no matter how much I struggled.

I was awake. The forest I had dreamt of was long gone, taking the beautiful figment of my imagination with it. I wrestled with my sheets slightly, giving up when I realised I was only getting more tangled. I sighed and lay my head against the floor in defeat. It had only been a dream, and no matter how much I wanted it to be real, it never would be. It was quite depressing really.

I sighed. Time for another day.


Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or the characters, I'm just borrowing them while Stephanie Meyer's back is turned.

A/N: So what did you think? I've been wanting to post this for a while. I did post this a while back, but I took it off because I couldn't think of anywhere to go with it. I changed it around a little though, and its now a one-shot (unless I get a brilliant idea, in which case it'll become a story). Just a little minor-AU about if Bella dreamt of Edward before she actually met him in Forks.

Check out my other story, Ambiguity. (A little shameless advertising there).

Reviews make me happy.

Ostentatious Querida =]