What Could Have Been

Pinkie Pie was walking through Ponyville when she found a pony in the middle of the gazebo,  peaceful. She wakes him up because she's never seen before.

"Who are you and why are you in here?"

"My name is Brad Flame and I don't have a good answer."

"Where'd your home?"

"I'm not sure if I have a home."

"Well, you could stay with me if you want."

"Okay."

Pinkie took pity on the disheveled, weak, feminine,  and young stallion in front of her. He was barely more than a colt, yet here he was, homeless. The two of them walk back to Sugar Cube Corner of course.

First Person

I was thinking about Pinkie as we walked,  and I realized that I had never seen her before in my life.  I had no memories other than my name, Brad Flame, now that I thought about it. And that my special talent was extracting meaning from dreams.  That might be useful. I'd certainly need it to win the game. What game? I had no idea where that renegade thought had come from. Suddenly,  a bunch of information hits me like a brick wall and I pass out.

The key to winning the game and getting back something (I wasn't sure what, but I knew I had lost it and it was important) was hidden in dreams, or rather, the world in which they existed. However, there were others with the ability to manipulate or use dreams in varied ways and they were also trying to win. This was bad. It was also my fault, but I didn't remember how. To find the key, I'd need to enter dreams. I'd need some anchor to keep part of me in the real world (as if you fully entered the "world of difference" it would be as real to you as reality, and you could get hurt and die) as well as some sort of indicator to tell me if I was successfully in a dream. The indicator was easy. I had a small scar on my front right leg. It wouldn't appear in dreams. It was too insignificant. The anchor would be harder.

I wake up in Pinkie's house, on the couch. Pinkie walks in literally the second I wake up, as if she had some sort of sixth sense. Maybe she did. It could be useful. I would ask her to be my anchor tonight.

"Are you okay?"

"Yep, thanks for asking, Pinkie!" I smile.

Hours later

I've told Pinkie about my situation and the game. She's really nice, and it seems like she'll help me. She also smells really good,  like baked goods, which makes sense because she's a baker.