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The world is riotous color and shape. Impossible vibrancy stands in for substance and depth; hues clash and fragment against each other, occasionally stirring together and forming something new and strange. I am just lucid enough to know two things: that this is a dream, and that I am made of glass.
I am almost invisible. The shape of me can be defined only where other colors are distorted as I run past them, trying to find a color of my own. Even my edges are blurred, indistinct
A pattern of red and white runs across my body. This is my sister's, I cry out, I scream. I flee it desperately, my footsteps like crystal bells, sounding with the voices of my sister, my mother, my friends. "It's no surprise. You're identical, after all." "I think it's cute!" "You should try to be more like Elizabeth."
The echoes drown out my own voice. I flee faster, cry louder.
And then the color and sound give way to a blank canvas. My footsteps are still crystalline, my body still glass, but their echo is their own.
And I am not alone here.
I can see the woman only by the slightest change in hue. She wears the canvas like a dress, as large as the city.
"...thanks." I don't know why I feel grateful at first. It's never come naturally. But I'm pretty sure she's responsible for pulling me from the riot of color. At least now I can tell where I begin and the rest of the world ends.
"You're welcome, Maria." The woman's smile is gentle and sad. She reminds me a lot of my sister. "It's the least I can do for what I'm about to ask you."
"Sure, fine, whatever. I reserve the right to refuse an answer." My mother would probably scold me for rudeness, but I don't know this lady. Even if I feel like I recognize her.
"Would you become a magical girl, and help protect this domain?"
I feel like the ground has been ripped from underneath me. This is wrong. The Dream is for girls like my sister. She'd be responsible with the power. She deserves the prestige.
"I think you've got the wrong girl." I manage to say after a moment, but the woman just shakes her head.
"That's for you to decide. I believe in you, Maria. But if you do not want the duty, I won't force it on you."
My mother's words echo in my ears. Something she'd told my sister and I, about if we'd become magical girls.
"I don't know. But even if you get the Dream, no one can force you to be a magical girl. It's dangerous, sometimes deadly work. You should have a chance to enjoy your lives first."
As if I wasn't ready.
I hold out my hand.
"Give me the power."
Color and sound flood into my body. For a moment, its the nightmare all over again.
Only now I see it for what it is. I've been given a palette, and instruments, and tools, each held ready at my fingertips. The dream is mine to shape.
On my body of glass, a stain begins to form. A mark. A star.
"Thank you, Maria. If, for some reason, you ever remember this, I hope you will forgive me." The woman begins to fade from the dream, and I feel the pull to wakefulness.
I grin.