Snow Globe

She still couldn't shake the previous night's dream. The day was nearly over, yet the image was still so sharp, so vivid in her memory. So unusual it was for her to remember a dream so clearly, and at such length. Gradually, details tended to fall away like the settling of brilliant white flakes and glitter in a snow globe--like the one she had recently acquired.

She held the globe now, watching the tiny bits of glitter dance and swirl around the frozen branches of a huge cottonwood tree which rose above an old brick home. White stone framed the arched doorways and windows, creating an attractive contrast. Glistening icicles hung from eves and overhangs, and a small doe stood gracefully on the snow-covered lawn.

She could close her eyes and see herself there. She imagined sipping hot cocoa from a large white mug as she watched a deer and the occasional rabbit track through the freshly fallen snow. Curiously, they would leap into the haze and disappear. No forest existed for them to leap into, and she couldn't see beyond the hazy glass dome in her daydreams. She was only aware of it in the same way one might regard the horizon.

Although she was content with her own life, it wasn't strange that she daydreamed about visiting obscure places. Growing up, she was the girl who aspired to explore the realm on the other side of her mirror. As an adult, she imagined walking along the beaches that only existed in paintings. Now, in that same way, she gazed into the hazy snow globe.

She vividly recalled the dream, the man in the navy blue sweater, and how he stood so silently in her room. He had beckoned for her to follow him. Rising from her bed, she followed him down the hall, to the staircase at the end, and up into the attic. Together, they had melted through the barrier of the snow globe as if size did not matter. Ahead of her, he opened the door of the house, an exact replica of her own. She continued to follow him up the stairs and into a familiar room. It was there that he pulled her sheets back and tucked her in to a bed, her bed. As she began to ask his name, she was loudly interrupted by her bedside clock.

She sat awake and confused, disappointed that her dream had ended. She knew it was only a dream and his name was irrelevant, still she had wanted to know. It was as if he may have had an explanation she was seeking.

Feeling silly, she stood to grab her coat. She had been indoors all day, unpacking box after box, and craved fresh air. Upon opening the front door, she inhaled the crisp winter air and felt instantly rejuvenated. From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a deer leap by, disappearing behind the ancient cottonwood tree.

Moving beyond her lawn, she met sudden resistance and could move forward no more. She stared in surprise at nothingness that kept her in place. She tried repeatedly to look beyond the wintry haze and see the houses across the street, but she could not. For a second, her heart stopped in her chest. It was real.

Hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks. Time was lost inside her new home of glass. All hope was lost as well--until the day she found him in her room. She examined the young man asleep in her bed. He woke with a start, but curiously followed her as she led him down the hallway to the attic stairs.

The next day, he still couldn't shake the previous night's dream. The day was nearly over and it was still so sharp, so vivid in his memory. He mused over the young woman in the pink nightgown. Why had he dreamed of her? "Oh well," he thought to himself with a shrug before taking a sip of the hot cocoa from his large white mug.