Frankie tip-toed through the entry hall of the Imagination Institute… and Figment tip-toed in the air by her shoulder. Moving down the queue, they passed a room with some comfy red chairs; Flubber's floating robot Weebo in a glass display case; and large portraits of Professor Phillip Brainard, Professor Wayne Szalinski, and Dr. Nigel Channing. Halfway to the load area stood a silver column decorated with signs pointing to the various sensory labs. There weren't any lights on, but it wasn't a problem—Figment had the tip of his tail lit up like a glow in the dark arrow head.

Quivering with excitement, the miniature dragon hovered close to Frankie and whispered, "Do you really think we'll find Dreamfinder?"

She patted his horned head. "Absatively-posalutely. It might take some searching, but we'll do it. If General Knowledge is still here, there's no reason Dreamfinder wouldn't be."

To their left, a door creaked open and they flung themselves flat against the wall. Frankie grabbed the end of Figment's tail to cover the light. Nigel Channing stepped out, newspaper under one arm and a cup of tea in the other, all the while humming the theme to Monty Python's The Meaning of Life.

Figment narrowed his eyes at the doctor. "That's the wrong song!"

Frankie couldn't slap her hand over his mouth fast enough.

One foot still in the air, Nigel spun one-hundred-and-eighty degrees on his heel. "Figment! You periwinkle…periwinkle…"

Figment grinned. "Pandemic?"

"Yes, very good… You periwinkle pandemic!" He shook his cup at him, splattering tea all over the floor. "What on Earth are you doing, cavorting around at this hour? We have open house bright and early tomorrow morning. Don't forget, you represent the Institute, a place of learning and dignity and—and…" He jiggled his tea at Frankie. "Figment, I thought I told you no more bringing the custodians into the Taste Labs. We've been getting complaints about people's tongues turning green."

Figment pulled Frankie forward, both giggling despite Nigel's fuming. "She's not a janitor! This is my pal Frankie, and she's going to help me find Dreamfinder." He held up her hand and Nigel shook it.

Frankie played along. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Channing."

"Pleasure to make your aquain—Wait, what am I saying?" Nigel shook his head. "Figment," he let out a long sigh. "I know you miss your friend, but he's gone. He isn't coming back. You can't keep dwelling on the past," he pleaded. "At the Institute, we focus on tomorrow, because tomorrow brings—"

Figment roared. It was a puny, screechy roar, not enough to even make the doctor's thin hair flutter, but it contained all of the rage the little dragon had kept pent up for years. "No, you're wrong." He thumbed his chest, "And I'm going to prove it." He took hold of Frankie's wrist and flew forward, pumping his wings with phenomenal vigor. "C'mon, Frankie, let's go get Dreamfinder!"

Nigel dropped his cup and paper. Clutching at the sides of his head in terror, he cried, "But the open house is tomorrow. Figment, please don't wreck my dioramas!"

With Nigel's wails echoing behind them, Figment whisked Frankie through the Sound and Sight Labs. She finally dug her heels in at the Smell Lab; it was the first time the soles of her sneakers had been able to touch the floor since Figment's take off. The scent of skunk wafted through the chamber, and she regretted stopping at that particular point.

"Figment," she grabbed his tail with both hands, anchoring him to a stop. "I know you're upset, but you need to listen for a minute."

"But Dreamfinder—"

"You don't know where he is."

He sank. "Oh." After a second he perked up. "Well, whereishe then?"

"I might know." She bit her lip. "Um, but there's always the chance I could be wrong."

"We won't know until we try, Frankie. Dreamfinder always said trying is the first step to success."

Or failure. But she didn't say that out loud. "Figment, we need to go upstairs."

In just a few minutes, they were standing at the base of a white spiral staircase. It was an odd sight in the ride's gift shop, especially since it was always blocked by a short velvet rope. For those familiar with the original incarnation of Journey Into Imagination, the flight of stairs wasn't bizarre for its placement. After all, it was only with the later versions that the gift shop had been built around it. What was bizarre was the fact guests were no longer allowed to climb it to the second floor and explore the playground that was once known as the Image Works.

Hiking her long legs up and over the rope, Frankie bypassed the boundary and bounded up the stairs with the same exuberance she'd had when she was five and eager to play on the Stepping Tones. All the way up the curving path, Figment stayed at her side, every bit as determined as she was. Once at the top, they were almost sent reeling back by the overpowering stench of mildew and plant rot. The ventilation upstairs had been shut down for almost a decade, making the air muggy and hard to inhale. Despite the suffocating humidity, Figment shivered and clung close to Frankie.

"I got ya, buddy," she whispered, putting an arm around him.

"I—I think there's monsters in here!"

"Let's not let our imaginations run away with us."

Something with multiple feet skittered past them and disappeared into the shadows.

Jaws open, eyes wide, they momentarily froze in panic, clutching one another.

"How about," said Figment, "we run away with our imaginations?"

"Good idea."

They sprinted for the Image Works zone. Dark forms detached from the shadows and chased after them, snapping with huge, eyeless, bulbous heads, and grabbing with tentacles and human arms that sprouted from their long necks. Arrays of tentacles gave them locomotion across the threadbare carpet.

When they got into the Image Works, they heard a loud click, and with some buzzing and flickering the round-topped Sensor Maze lit up, beckoning them in.

"Head for the rainbow tunnel!" someone shouted. "They hate the light! I'll meet you at the end."

"That's Dreamfinder!" Figment grabbed Frankie's hand and they headed into the multi-hued path. It was glowing golden now, with faint strips of red, orange, green, blue, indigo, and violet scattered throughout. Luckily, the Sensor Maze, also known as the Rainbow Corridor, wasn't a maze so much as just a winding walkway. The snarls of the shadow beasts decayed as the duo reached the end.

Waiting for them was a plump, rosy cheeked old man with his arms spread open in welcome. His dark blue suit contrasted with his thick red beard and mustache. Most of his red hair was hidden by a black top hat. Aviator goggles sat on the hat's brim. Not a speck of lint could be spotted on his white gloves.

"DREAMFINDER!" Figment pounced on him, almost knocking the old man over. "You can't imagine how much I've missed you!" He nestled into Dreamfinder's arms and nuzzled his head against his chest.

"Oh, old friend," Dreamfinder chuckled softly and rubbed a finger under Figment's chin. "I think I can." Smiling, he looked up at Frankie. His eyes twinkled when he said, "I knew you'd find me."

Figment was beaming. "I couldn't have done it without my new friend, Frankie. She knew just where to look."

Blushing, she shrugged. "It was a lucky guess."

Dreamfinder put an arm around her shoulders and together they strolled further into the Image Works. "Luck? No, you used your wits and your imagination. You put together all the clues. You knew I'd be here." As they passed the different exhibits, the stations were bathed in a golden glow, like the Meet the World show building had been. They walked over the pastel colored Stepping Tones and "One Little Spark" leapt up from the floor.

"Well," arms out for balance she hopped on one foot from a red square to an orange octagon, finishing the chorus, "it just seemed obvious. This was always my favorite ride, and I thought you'd be here since General Knowledge and the crane are. And what better tool for a princess than her imagination? That's what always gets them through the worst of times."

Soon the Image Works looked like its old self. The Bubble Music station burbled happily. Colorful images danced across the electronic coloring books and Magic Palettes screens. The giant kaleidoscope monitor displayed beautiful patterns that rearranged themselves into new forms. Over at the Dreamfinder's School of Drama, the green screen was prepped and the camera was rolling. By itself, the table-sized pin screen was creating three-dimensional forms. It was all just as Frankie had remembered it. Well, except for the horrific beasts she could still hear snarling back at the stairs.

"What are those monsters?" She shivered.

Dreamfinder stopped and turned to face her. The cheeriness was gone and his expression was one of grief. "Oh, my dear girl, I'm afraid I've made a horrible mess of things." He shook his head. "You remember that I had all sorts of creations I shared with visitors. My most beloved was Figment, of course."

The little dragon blushed. "Awww!"

"My second most treasured was my Dreamcatcher machine." He gestured to a corner. In that instant, the fabulous flying contraption—something like a steam punk combination of a dirigible and a bicycle with a big hose and an iron barrel attached—shimmered into being. "With it we'd catch all sorts of notions and fancies in the Idea Bag and bring them to life. Anything could inspire new ideas. Art, literature, drama, and science—it all starts with that one little spark. Unfortunately," he sat down on the Dreamcatcher with a soft groan, "not all of these inventions were friendly."

Frankie thought back on her memories of the ride. "The literature part was always scary. It looked like words would fall on you and there were all sorts of monsters. I mean, they were all shadows, illusions, but to a kid they were as real as Figment. You had more references to H. P. Lovecraft and Poe than anything else." Her eyes grew wide and she snapped her fingers. "Those monsters were those… things projected on the big book, the giant Venus flytraps! I remember now. They had big vines and tentacles and human arms. I used to close my eyes when I'd see it. It scared the…" She looked at the kindly old man and the childish dragon. "It scared me a lot."

He chuckled and flashed a half-smile. "I thought maybe after all of the pretty paintings and carousel animals, people would want a thrill." Once more, he frowned, looking weary. "When I found my way back, they must have followed me. Since then, I've exhausted myself trying to destroy them. But it turns out that I can't destroy. I can only create, which, I suppose, is as it should be."

"Are they only in here?"

Again, he shook his head. "Most of them are. Those are the babies, the saplings that grew off the mother."

The color drained from her cheeks. "You mean there's a huge one out there?"

He nodded. "Two, actually, a mated pair. And I'm afraid of the havoc they're going to cause, if they haven't terrorized everyone already. I think someone is using them, controlling them to make them even worse. There's no telling what foul deeds have been accomplished."

"My friends are out there!"

"I know." He got up and walked over to the metal container on the Dreamcatcher. "I've been waiting a long time for this," he grinned. "You are the Princess whose crown I was sworn to protect. Just to be sure, though, you have to use your imagination to bring it forth. It will know its owner."

Figment flew over to the machine and sat by the barrel for a good view. The drum was like a womb for concepts. They gestated within until taking their final, realized shape. Once fully formed, they popped out the top. A clock with one big red arrow was situated on the tub's outward side. It calculated how close an idea was to fruition. Figment had sprung out of that very kettle. "Oh boy!" he clapped. "Make it a beautiful, shiny crown, Frankie."

She swallowed. "Um, okay, well… Let's see. A Princess is never selfish, so it wouldn't have gaudy jewels. It'd be dainty, like a tiara." She smiled and her voice grew stronger. "Oh, and she's always good with animals and at ease in the woods. She makes herself at home wherever; doors aren't locked to her, not if her intentions are good. Her love helps heal and inspire others."

As she spoke, the dial on the drum lit up and the arrow flipped to the right. Thin smoke tinted with the scent of sweet spices spilled out. There was a whistle, like from a ready tea kettle. The bin rattled and shook as a beam of light shot out. Then the Crown emerged, slowly twirling for them all to see. It was a golden band, decorated with interwoven green leaves. At the center, spiraling vines flanked a miniature Cinderella castle. Figment reached out towards it, but then drew his hand back with a gasp. It floated over to Frankie, stayed at eye level for a moment, and then placed itself upon her head.

When it touched down, warmth and joy flowed through her being. "¡Oh Dios mío!" she breathed. "Ohmigosh, ohmigosh, ohmigosh!" Tears came to her eyes and she put her hands over her mouth. That happiness was still there, but it was joined by a new emotion, a raw drive that formed one word in her mind: Responsibility. It overwhelmed her and she fell to her knees. "What if I can't…?"

Dreamfinder went to her side and pulled her up. "You can, my dear. And you will. Believe in yourself and anything is possible. The power comes from within you; the Crown is merely a conduit." He looked out toward the edge of the Image Works, where the monsters were waiting for them. "However, in this world it doesn't have its full strength, so use it wisely." He tilted her chin up. "Never doubt yourself. When all seems lost, stand and proclaim who you are, and you will always find the strength to keep moving forward."

She nodded and wiped away her tears. Grinning with determination, she held her head high. "I am the Princess, and right now, my friends need me."

The Dreamcatcher came to life. Dreamfinder pulled down his goggles and snapped them in place. "Maybe along the way, we can get rid of some of these brutes, eh?" He laughed and took the helm.

Bouncing with boundless energy, Figment was sitting in the back. He was already wearing his own set of goggles, a leather helmet, and a scarf. After Frankie sat in the middle, the dragon gave a thumbs-up and the machine took off.

On their way out of the Imagination Institute, they sucked up some of the plantlets into the Idea Bag. (Also, they'd given Nigel a good startle, but that was just for fun.) The Bag wasn't infinite, though, and the hose certainly wasn't big enough to draw in the massive beast Frankie spotted moving across World Showcase.