[CONTENTID1] 9 [/CONTENTID1]

[CONTENTID2] Another Dream [/CONTENTID2]

[CONTENTID3]

An unfamiliar young boy appeared in my dreams. He had platinum-colored hair with bangs that fell right to his blue eyes, and a great big eye grin that I adored. He had dirt all over his clothes, which were merely just scraps of old clothing sewn together, and bruises covered his arms and legs. I could tell he was struggling through something, but still managed to smile through the pain.

I watched as the little boy slowly tip-toed into a big, fancy room. When inside, through the blurriness of my imagination, I made out giant chandeliers hanging on the ceiling and bright purple walls. On the floor was a long red carpet, not quite like the ones celebrities would walk on, and at the end of the carpet was a large golden throne. On one of the walls was a shimmering mirror, which had a reflection so clear it was like looking at your twin. Judging by the boy’s amused expression, it seemed to be his first time in this room.

He crept along the red carpet, his footsteps nearly silent, and turned to face  the mirror. I felt myself chuckle softly as his doe eyes grew wide, as if he had never seen a mirror before. Fascinated, the boy lifted his tiny pointer finger and touched the mirror ever-so-slightly, but immediately jerked it back when the glass started to ripple, like a portal would.

What was that? I wondered, as he slowly backed away.

“What do you think you’re doing, young man?”

The loud, thunderous voice startled the both of us, and I saw the little boy cringe as fear grew in his eyes.

“D-daddy, I was just-”

“Don’t you dare call me your father.” The man said angrily, stomping close enough to the little boy so that I could see his long white beard and equally long figure. He wore a robe with expensive stones, indicating his high status, and black-rimmed glasses that made him look twice as intimidating. Unable to do anything, I watched the scene unfold with anxiety.

“S-sorry, sir.” The boy stuttered, correcting himself. “I-I just wanted to see something,”

“Nonsense.” The man scoffed, his beady black eyes staring into the boy’s soul. “You ought be punished.”

The boy’s eyes became glossy and big, while his lip trembled as he tried not to cry. “P-please don’t! I’m very sorry!”

“I don’t care.” The man said coldly, picking up the boy by his leg, so that he was upside down. The boy yelped quietly in pain, as all the blood rushed to his head.

“Wait