It was out in the open that Amara stood, out in a clearing. The meadow grass was silver underneath the moonlight, and her black hair reflected the moon's glow, for it was glossy after just being washed in a nearby lake, that had a waterfall beside it. Strapped to her back was the dust of dreamers far and wide, which she'd collected to create her perfect dream world, which is where she stood right now. The grass beneath her feet wasn't real, nor was the waterfall where she'd washed her hair. She was the only solid thing in the meadow-the only real thing.
She'd been warned by others whom she'd told of her journey, that she was going to be alone forever if she trapped herself forever in a dream, because nothing else in her dream would be itself. There was nothing else in her world that could have its own free will, she was able to manipulate anything and everything.
And that made Amara very sad, as she didn't want to be alone, and yet, here she was trapped, until someone would find her, and wake her up.
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