When the morning came Rosalind looked at it with new eyes. She felt a swelling of excitement in her chest, so large and strong she feared she wouldn't be able to breathe deep enough to sustain herself. She slipped out of bed, dashing over to her dresser. She peered at it, trying to determine if she had grown any in the night. She was certain she must done so. How could her mind have changed so much and her body not at all?
Her mother came in as she was attempting to determine whether her legs were longer by comparing them to her stockings. She looked up sheepishly while her mother chuckled. "Good morning. You're late for breakfast."
Rosalind nodded and stood, taking off her nightgown. Her mother came to help her dress faster, and Rosalind spoke while they set themselves to the task. "I had a dream last night, mother." She said it with all seriousness. She saw her mother attempt to suppress a chuckle. It was annoying, but Rosalind continued talking. Her mother thought it was funny when she was serious, but this wasserious. "I dreamed I was standing in a room full of people, all my age. I was surrounded by girls, and they all looked quite like me. Each one was just a little different, and they grew more different as they stretched out toward the end. I think they were all me, but in different places, perhaps even different worlds. There were boys at the edge of the room, and the walls had mirrors on them which reflected the room and its inhabitants into forever."
"What an imagination, dear." The patronizing tone in her mother's voice made Rosalind quite cross. She stomped her foot, which drew a stern look from her mother. "I'm sure you'll forget all about this nightmare soon enough." Her mother kissed her forehead, which somehow made it all worse. Rosalind uncrossed her arms and drew on her dress, submitting to being tied into it.
"It was real, mother. Those girls were real." Rosalind didn't expect her mother to understand. She felt distressed that the reality of those visions was being called into question. Adults could be so unendingly dense. "It was no nightmare. It was destiny."
"Such a thing to talk about." Her mother said, shaking her head a little. "You're a child, dear. You've no more idea what your destiny is than a duck has of its destiny. Someday you'll see this seriousness has cost you the joys of youth and sorely regret shunning the company of girls your own age for these flights of fancy." The worry in her mother's voice sounded so sincere, but Rosalind resented receiving the same lecture for the hundredth time. She hated being told that she was too serious. She doubted quite sincerely that someone could be too serious or too smart.
Rather than start another argument that would end in tears, Rosalind kept her mouth shut. Her mother sighed softly, smoothing some loose ends of hair back into the plait that held the girl's hair in check. "Go get some breakfast, dear. You'll be off to school soon and your father likes to see you in the morning before he goes to work."
"Of course, mother." Rosalind said, in the sing song voice of a phrase which one must repeat whether they are sincere about it or not. She strode out of her bedroom, her mind whirring with thoughts. Surely one of the children in the dream had to be real. She just had to find one of them and talk to them, if only for a moment. They would surely understand where her parents did not.
Robert had the energy of ten boys when he woke up the morning after the dream he knew had changed his life. He dashed out of bed and drew on his dressing gown as he went flying out his bedroom door, racing to tell his mother of it before he forgot. He found her in the kitchen preparing breakfast. She looked over at him when he came in, breathless and excited. She chuckled and tutted at him, smoothing his sleep tousled hair. "You're in quite a state, dear. What's happened?"
Robert hugged her legs, being careful not to disrupt her as she cooked. He took a deep breath and launched into his story, telling it with the earnest excitement of a child, each new detail stoking the fires of his joy.
"I had a dream last night! I dreamed I was looking into a mirror, at another boy like me but he was a little different. Then a mirror came up behind me, and I could see all the mirrors in existence! In each mirror was a boy that looked a lot like me but a little different. The farther out they got the less they looked like me, but I knew they were me. At the very end there might even have been some girls!" The last he said with a laugh. He couldn't imagine being a girl, but he wondered if maybe there was a version of him somewhere who has the same dream but in reverse. Had they seen each other in the dream? The thought made him tremble with excitement.
His mother didn't look at pleased. She gently pressed her hand to his face, checking for fever. "What a strange dream. Are you feeling well?" Her cooking stopped for a moment, which Robert knew meant she was paying complete attention to him. He wondered why she looked so concerned. How could he explain what he'd seen?
"I'm more than well!" He said, with the exaggerated exasperation that is unique to a child having to explain something obvious to a slow-witted adult. He gestured wildly as he spoke, trying the channel the overwhelming desire to make her understand. "This is wonderful, mother, don't you see? A million, no, a trillion mes all in one place! What if they all have their own homes and their own mothers and fathers and some of them are rich and some poor and-"
She shook her head and returned to her cooking, interrupting him mid-sentence. "Dear child, your imagination is running away with you again. Get dressed and wash up before breakfast is ready. You have school today and I don't want you to be late because you're telling stories."
Robert sighed, and nodded. The effervescent joy of his dream evaporated under the heat of his mother's dismissal. He trudged back to his room, closing the door to sulk for a moment when he was alone.
He knew what he'd seen was real. It was as clear to him at the fact that his hand existed. He wanted to meet those other versions of himself and show his mother he was serious. He squared his shoulders again, his face as serious now as it had been excited earlier. "I'm going to find them. I won't rest until I do."