Fireflies. Starlight. Sunrays. Morning dew. Snowflakes and sugar. My own little world. Blue skies hanging delicately above bright green grass, elm tree’s reaching for the sky and the scent of pine in the air. Dreams shift and change. I’m tumbling down a bright white hole, hair flowing around my head, swirling black text surrounding me and words whispered in my ear in a soft whimsical voice- kind, pretty, smart. It’s beautiful, it says I’m beautiful. The air caresses me as I fall, and then I’m not falling anymore. I’m soaring, flying, twisting and twirling and bursting out into the sky. Blues, greens, and purples blend together and meld into me, softening me with their calm and beauty. I’m alive. I pirouette and land gracefully on a cloud, its pink fluff surrounding me. I am safe and protected, warm and wanted. Dark blue and black swirl through the air, taking over and I smile and throw myself backwards, staring up into the sky lit by thousands of twinkling stars. I’m a star. I’m a writer. I’m a poet. I’m loved and free and happy and beautiful and amazing. I am alive.