She had to be dreaming.

How else would the world be covered in absolute winter white? She had no idea where she was. Everything was covered in so much snow, that any distinguishing objects were white masses, tiny hills and valleys around her. Flakes fell heavily to the ground and covered her shoulders and hair, but strangely, Castille wasn't cold. There she stood, calf deep in snow in her pajamas, and yet she was as warm as she would be in her bed. There wasn't a breeze. It was actually strangely quiet wherever she was.

-I have to be dreaming.-

That tune. The tune that sounded so strange, and catchy. What was it doing here? Where was the snowglobe? She listened for a moment, eyes closed. It sounded almost...sad. Yes, sad was the word. But who would write such a sad tune and put it in a snowglobe? It floated just out of reach, and she looked around until her ears caught what she hoped was the direction it was coming from. -Curious.- she thought, taking a step or two. Her feet made a soft crunching noise as she walked, and the music got louder.

Castille didn't know how much time has passed before the music seemed right next to her. How does one tell time in a dream anyway? I mean ,unless there is a clock nearby. But there were no clocks here, or if they were they were buried beneath the deepening snow. And then some immeasurable amount of time later, she saw a figure ahead...

That silhouette! Her blue eyes widened. The girl from her snowglobe! The snow fell thicker now, and her outline was blurry, but still there. Now in snow past her knees, Castille tried to move toward her. Who on Earth was she? Was she playing the music? The girl (woman? it was hard to tell her age from such a distance) turned to face her, but with all the white around her, Castille could not make out her face. The music began to slow, as did the snow. With the final notes of tune, Castille felt like she could almost see her face....


She opened her eyes to a bright morning in Destiny City. Snow clung to the branches outside her window where fog covered the glass. She rose, hair in tangles, to shut off the alarm that was buzzing resolutely nearby. Her hand brushed the snowglobe, and the dream rushed back to her for only a moment, long enough for Castille to gasp. She grasped the globe, looking for anything strange, but it was just the same. What caused such a vivid dream? Why was she so entranced with this tiny little trinket?

Word Count: 451