A/N: Hello! The title and basic concept of the story is based on Velouria by Pixies.

Chapter One

My father drove me through town with the windows down. The skin on my thighs stuck to the seat in the Texas heat. As a teenager, I never imagined that I would still be here, with him, in my mid-twenties. Much less having him drive me to and from work for the last four days.

I was thankful, very thankful, for his help. But I craved independence. Much like a flame, I could see it growing more and more each day, and soon it would engulf me like a raging fire. But that day was too far away, and right now I am a twenty-five-year-old that feels like a fifteen-year-old.

I obviously didn't continue to live with him by choice, it was more convenience. Grad school was demanding, and my part time job at a local clothing store wouldn't cover most of the expenses required from moving out. I could have moved in with my cousin Henry, it had always been an option. He was a year older than me and a struggling actor. My anxiety wouldn't let me take that chance. What would we do if he couldn't come up with his portion one month? I knew he resorted to selling weed when that happened without me living there, and the last thing I needed was for my living space to be swarmed by the cops should an angry ex-girlfriend decide to rat him out. Despite my impatience, living at home was the best option for me.

I liked the solitude of it as well. My dad would leave for days at a time to work on our small family ranch an hour out of town. Most of the time, I had no one to answer to. Those days I felt like I could at least pretend to have my shit together.

"Your car gets out of the shop tomorrow, right?" He glanced over at me. His blue eyes hidden behind round sunglasses that sat on the bridge of his sunburned nose.

"Supposed to," I answered back lazily. My car was only two years old, a graduation gift from my dad. It was the first new car I had ever owned, and it was giving me way more problems than I would have expected. At this point, I would have much preferred my old 2003 Camry. It had its moments, but at least I could count on it.

He shook his head and turned down the road that led to our street, "It needs to. I'm leaving tomorrow night."

Though it was almost eight in the evening the sun had just begun to set, and small children where beginning to put their toys and bikes back in the garage for the night. "If it's not I can get Henry to drive me."

My dad sighed, a hint of frustration gracing his voice. "I don't understand why you didn't just get a rental."

"It wouldn't have been worth it." And it wouldn't have. It was summer break, so I had no classes to attend. I wasn't in the mood to go out with any of my friends, and to be honest I didn't think they were either. No one had even messaged me in the last few days, so my social life wasn't much of a concern. Work was my only real responsibility, and paying two hundred dollars for a car I would only drive in twice a day was not something I wanted to do.

When we finally parked, I grabbed my purse and made my way to my room as quickly as possible. I was exhausted. I knew this meant things were getting worse. My mental health was deteriorating again, but I was determined to hang on. Depression wasn't anything new to me. It had been the monster under my bed since puberty. Working a five-hour shift drained me more than it should have, and I was ready to fall into my bed and sleep for the next twelve to make up for it. But I wouldn't let myself. I forced myself into the shower and began to scrub my body under the scalding heat.

I never felt clean, no matter how hot the water was. How hard I scrubbed or how much soap I used didn't matter. It never felt good enough. I don't know why this was, and if I did, I would fix it immediately. I think it's from growing up hearing that all fat people smelled a certain way. I wasn't fat. I knew that. But I had gained more than a few pounds in the last few years and I was far from skinny. I was pushing fat.

This only made things worse for me. I didn't think that having gained weight made me uglier, but I knew to others it didn't make me prettier. This was confirmed in the fact that I hadn't been able to get a date for the last five years. I didn't try a lot though, in my own defense. And if it did work out, the guy always ended up being an absolute freak. It was easier to just give up in the love department. I didn't have time for it anyway, I needed to focus on my career.

Stepping out of the shower, I began to brush my waist length brown hair. It was overgrown and unruly. The last time I had really cut it was three years ago, and I had the ends bleached to fade into blonde. I kept it because it still looked good, even three years after it looked like I had just gotten it done. Like I cared about my appearance at least a little. Though I liked my hair long, I had debated cutting it above my shoulders. It was naturally curly, but the length had weighed it down to soft waves. It also was becoming too hot to manage in the summer heat. I ended up not cutting it because, with my weight gain, I had lost my cheekbones and acquired quite the round face. I felt like the long hair helped me appear older and it had become a bit of a security blanket for me.

There were several things I liked about myself though, and every night I had made them a point to note. It seemed that calling out my perfections just as much as I called out my imperfections actually helped my self-confidence. Who knew? My lips were full and always pink. Unlike many girls my age, I didn't desire fillers to make them bigger. My nose was straight, even though I had broken it a few years back in a tragic backyard pool party accident. I had inherited my bright blue eyes from my father's side of the family, and they were something everyone commented on. If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that I had beautiful eyes. My skin had begun to clear up after a year long fight with acne, and the redness I carried in my cheeks had begun to fade to a pale pink.

I finished moisturizing my face and glanced on the cat shaped cuckoo clock that hung from my wall. Two hours had passed since I arrived home. Ten seemed like a perfectly reasonable time to head off to bed but even if it wasn't, I would have laid down anyway.

My nights had been dreamless for a few months. I didn't think anything of it, just that it was sort of weird to never dream at all. I had read somewhere that if you didn't think of your dream within five seconds of waking you would forget you dreamt completely. I figured that was just what had been happening to me.

But then last Monday I did dream, and I remembered it. It wasn't the dream that was strange. It was that I had had the same exact one every single night since then. Almost as soon as I feel asleep, I suddenly woke up in a large clearing. The sun wasn't out, but it wasn't dark. In fact, it looked to be just after sunset or before dawn. Trees taller than I had ever seen stood around me in almost a circle. A small stream was about twenty feet to my right, the sound of slowly moving water and soft wind through the trees was the only thing that I could hear. I was alone.

It was the clearest dream I had ever had. It almost felt like I was really there. I could feel the soft grass beneath me, the wind moving the stray hair around my face. Looking down, I realized I was in different clothes than what I had went to bed in. I was in a loose-fitting white dress that stopped just at my knees and my feet were bare. I would have been scared; I should have been. But something was telling me I had no reason to be. I felt more relaxed and at peace than I ever have before. A part of me truly believed I was dreaming of Heaven, though I didn't believe it to be so dark.

I didn't move from my spot on the ground. It seemed just as I was about to stand up, I would wake up. Upon waking I would always try to force myself back to sleep in order to continue the dream and go back, but I could never.

I had told Henry about it in passing a few days ago. He was convinced that it was some kind of alien abduction scenario. Though I laughed at that, a part of me believed it. If I could feel like I was really alive inside of my dream, like it was a reality, what were the odds that some alien race was just playing me some weird movie while toying with my insides every night. It would have explained not being able to get up before the dream was over.

But tonight was different. I felt it the moment I woke up inside my personal utopia. Something new would happen. I decided not to wait this time, and immediately tried to stand, a smile gracing my face when I succeeded.

I walked to the edge of the stream and looked in. I was almost surprised to see that physically I was still myself and unchanged. I heard the wind begin to pick up, the leaves frantically dancing with its song. Turning, I looked back into the forest past the clearing and made my way to a tree that's trunk was larger than the others. Running my hand over the bark I felt a tingle begin to make its way through my fingers into my hand.

"Interesting."

I jumped back as soon as I heard the voice. I wanted to scream. I tried but nothing would come out. The voice wasn't carried by the air around me. It was inside of my head, but it wasn't my own. It sounded as though it belonged to a woman, much older and wiser than me. I spun in circles, searching in vain for the source before the air around me began to glisten. As it always did before I awoke.

Everything went black and the annoying sound of my alarm filled my ears.