This is Prompt 42-Dreams

Mitchie slowly undressed, hanging up her dress and climbing into bed as though she was in a dream. Her mind was completely focused on Mr. Shane Grey, a fairytale of her own. She smiled and stared up at the ceiling, remembering the way he had burst through the door, a look of anger in his eyes. She remembered that way he and the Frenchman had fought, and how all she could think of at the moment was his safety.

"And then the dance," she whispered to herself, pulling the covers up to her chin and gripping them tightly in rapture as she remembered the way he had held her that night, the way they had danced together as though they had been practicing their whole life.

"And the walk," she added, twisting around so that she was lying on her side, still holding the covers to her chin. She could remember the way they had walked side by side, easily matching each other's pace with no apparent effort. The way he had guided her onto the balcony, his hand resting lightly on Mitchie's back, made her smile even now. She could even make herself believe that she could still feel his hand there, even now.

"That's silly," she said, twisting so that she could press her flushing face into the fabric of her pillow. Why was one man, a young man that she had only known for a couple of hours, commanding such a block of her mind? Mitchie tossed and turned, refusing to even think about the answer she knew to be true.

Finally, she threw back the covers and rose to walk to the window. Sitting down on the window seat, Mitchie drew her robe around her and gazed out over France. There were still many lights all over the city, but there were decidedly fewer than there had been, and the sight of those last few lights was enough to make Mitchie smile. "Hope in the darkness," she whispered, pressing one hand to the glass in front of her. The lights meant more to her than just flaming balls in lanterns, they truly meant hope.

The whispers of war amongst the people of her fair nation worried Mitchie. Many people wanted freedom for the slaves, but many people did not. The south claimed that the slaves were not human beings because they were not as intelligent, and not as fair of skin, as the rest of the population. Mitchie knew that those in the north, the ones who opposed slavery, were right, but it was dangerous for her to side with them when she and her family lived in the south.

She glanced back out the window and wished that there might not be a war. Perhaps everything could be worked out over a meeting and a few cups of hot tea? With that thought, Mitchie remembered what Shane had said. "It doesn't hurt anyone to dream, now does it?"

"No," she said to herself. "It doesn't indeed."

She glanced back out over the parts of France that she could see, but her mind was no longer on the war, or the lights of the city. It was on the man she had met and felt drawn to. She knew why she felt this way, even though she had tried not to think about the answer, it had pushed and poked its way to the front of her mind, refusing to be shut out. Finally, the pressure was so great, the words practically forming themselves on her lips, that Mitchie spoke aloud the reason for her feelings, the reason he was the only subject that was staying on her mind.

"Because I'm in love with him." She bit her lip as soon as the words left her mouth. She really couldn't believe that she had such strong feelings for someone she had just met, but it was true, and there was no denying it. For the first time in her life, Mitchie had fallen in love.

With that declaration off her chest, and the window telling none of her secrets, Mitchie shed her robe and climbed back into bed, snuggling down into the covers as she drifted off the sleep. She knew that her dreams that night would be pleasant, for the only dream that she would even entertain would be about Shane Grey, her very lifelike dream from France.