Quote:
There’s a particularly cheesy looking section of the carnival that you happen to pass by, requesting you take one of the provided slips of colored paper and write down a favorite holiday memory and pin it to the excessively large festively decorated tree stationed in the corner, near the children’s play area. Maybe you’re feeling nostalgic, maybe you’re doing it to humor a companion but for whatever reason, you find yourself jotting down a memory. Regardless of whether or not the memory you've written down is true, you find yourself dreaming of this memory in your sleep that evening, very vividly. Maybe you're reliving the memory, maybe you're standing in the background and watching it all unfold. Maybe this fabricated memory has you regretting writing down anything at all, as you experience this for yourself. Either way, guess it was on your mind for longer than you thought!
Delilah had taken Wilbur's suggestion of going to the carnival and eventually headed there on her own. Firstly, she had never really been to a carnival, but secondly, she just wanted to check it out. It seemed to be well-reviewed, at least, considering that at first she heard about it from Wilbur, but then it spread. She saw the aesthetic pictures on Instagram, the news articles from the local newspapers, the posts on Twitter about how the carnival was so cool and there was a cute ice skating rink and there was also a super pretty tree that she couldn't wait to take a selfie in front of--
That was what she was sought out that afternoon.
It hadn't been hard to miss the festively decorated tree with little papers hanging off of it, and Delilah wandered over to it, glancing over some of the papers that were on the tree. She had been noticed, and they told her that she should add something to the tree. A childhood memory. A Christmas memory. Something fantastic about the holiday season. All she needed to do was write something down on the little piece of paper and paste it onto the tree.
Of course, Delilah couldn't just tell them she had no memories of that time of her life. She couldn't just say she was unaware of what childhood was like, only that she conceptionally had to have had one. Besides, that was embarrassing and awkward and all she wanted to do was fit in.
So, dutifully, she wrote down on the paper about how her parents had, one year, bought her a few horseback riding lessons at the local stables, since she asked for a pony. She had wanted a pretty pony, too, with bows in their hair, and so her parents had made a special request. The horse she got to train with had bows in their hair.
What Delilah hadn't been expecting was when that she curled up to sleep that night that she would ...
Actually remember it.
She had parents in her dream. Parents that looked like her. A mother with short curly hair and a wide smile from ear to ear, a deep alto voice that instinctively warmed Delilah, and a fantastic taste in Christmas pajama fashion which Delilah deeply admired. Her father was a short man, but what he lacked in stature he made up for in cheer and playfulness. Before Delilah was presented with an envelope, he had been teasing her mother with little nicknames and small tickles.
And then she was given the envelope.
Delilah opened it in a rush and felt herself squeal when it was confirmed she got a few equestrian lessons at the local stables. There was even a picture of the pony she would be riding in there, and Delilah found herself exclaiming, "Thank you!" over and over again.
It was a few days later when she went to the stables, and she met her pretty pony.
Her pretty pony, with bows woven into their hair. Her pretty pony, who she sat on the back of, as the pony trotted her around the stables, with her parents watching from the corner, smiling proudly at her. Gallantly, Delilah waved.
They waved back.
She turned her gaze out to the sun, and Delilah blinked her eyes awake.
And she felt tears drip down her cheeks.
