Just a Dream...

by The Orange Nebula

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Spitfire, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Soarin, Rainbow Dash, Sad
Length: 1515

Rainbow Dash doesn't know if she's either dreaming... or if this is actually happening. Did she really lose the only stallion she ever loved?

Rainbow Dash doesn't know if she's either dreaming... or if this is actually happening. Did she really lose the only stallion she ever loved?

http://soundcloud.com/myuu/home/download

Published 2014-08-18 05:40:06 UTC
Last updated 2014-08-18 05:40:06 UTC

Just a Dream...

You want to believe it isn’t real, pretend it never happened. You want to believe that it was all but a dream… some sick, demented dream. It’s been a long night, you’ve had far too many drinks, and your mind is just conjuring up these nightmares one by one. All you need to do is sober up, take a deep breath, close your eyes, and pinch yourself hard. Remind yourself that all this is just a dream.

Just a dream…

It’ll only be a matter of time before you wake up, back home; nestled gently beneath the blankets, thanking Celestia a thousand times over that none of this was real. How silly you can be, getting all worked up over a figment of the mind.

But until than… you still have to wake up.

You stare down on your hoof, close your eyes, and bite down hard. A string of pain shoots its way down your arm, an explosion of adrenaline as the bleak world around you is once again lit up by the shocking jolt of reality.

You remove your mouth from your hoof; eyes still clasped shut, only crowbars capable of opening them. This isn’t how you expected it… this is not how it should be. You still feel the coldness of a plastic seat beneath your flank, the chilling breeze of a single ceiling fan. “Where is my bed?” you think, “Biting my hoof should have surely woken me from this… this… nightmare.”

You don’t want to open your eyes, you can’t face it. Face the sick, twisted fate. You want to be back in your bed, back home. But you’re not home; you’re here, in this damned waiting room.

“Maybe I need to bite harder,” you think, “I just need to wake up… I have to. This is a dream after all.”

You bite again, harder, another shot of pain, another failed attempt to wake up. The bitter atmosphere still dawns you. The tickling sensation of tears trickles down your closed eyes, the salty taste falling to your lips. It tastes too real to be a dream, a nightmare, or a sick joke. You don’t want to, you never wanted to, but you must open your eyes. Witness the reality.

Slowly, the gleaming magenta irises reveal themselves, the rosy color snuffed out by a fresh coat of tears. You look around; notice the bite mark on your left hoof. The pain still lingers, swimming inside, feeling as real and brutal as the summer heat. You are not in your bedroom, not nestled beneath the blankets, or cuddling your cloud pillow.

Instead you remain here, in the dingy waiting room of a Ponyville hospital. The tears still drip down your cheeks, and a mere wipe of the hoof sweeps them away, only to be replaced by new ones. A nurse sits idly behind a counter, boredom seamlessly grasping at her throat. She types slowly at a keyboard, not taking a second glance at you.

You feel at your face, listen to the rhythmic typing of the nurse, see your faded coat of cyan fur. The once vibrant sounds, scents, colors… that is what you don’t see. Everything is snuffed, dimmed or muffled.

You lean back in your chair, listening as it creeks like rusted hinges of a broken door. The acceptance flows in like a stream, yet the water is nothing but calm. Its fast, violent, unpredictable, flooding your insides, your heart sinking below like a ship.

Your silence is broken by the door opening, a similar creek as your chair. Out steps a mare, her coat flushed over in a burning orange, her mane slicked back and wild like a flame. Yet the colors are gone to you, just blotches of black and white remain. She gives you an empty look, the lightless eyes burn worse than the fire she is named after.

Without a word, she sits at your side, occupying the closest seat. It’s than you realize how painful silence can be, how heavy the feeling is. Yet you don’t speak, there’s no strength. “Rainbow…” says the mare, her voice glassy and fragile. “It’s not your fault… please don’t think this is your fault.”

Though she speaks your name, there is no strength to lift your head, stare into those matching, deadened eyes, and respond. You only stare blankly onward, watching as the clock slowly ticks. “Rainbow please answer me,” the mare squeaks, her voice is fading fast. “I can’t cope with this by myself. I need you, Rainbow.”

You say nothing.

The mare jumps from her seat. “RAINBOW DASH!!”

The room feels to erupt, and even the stone like nurse is now watching. “Rainbow!” she cries, nearly screams, “I need you! I need you to talk to me! Tell me everything will be ok! Please, Rainbow!”

You say nothing.

She falls to her haunches. “I… I can’t do this on my own.” Her head is buried in her hoofs, she sobs, cries and kicks like a child. Tears flow like fountains, the site of a fully grown mare reduced to such a mess, it toys with you. Reminds you how unforgiving death is, how selfish death can be. How it can crumble even the strongest of mares, like the one before you.

“Spitfire…,” you say, your head masked by a tangled mane. Her sobbing instantly ceases, her dull eyes meeting yours for the first time. “I love him… I loved for a long time now. All those nights by the creek, soaring above the clouds. I know you two are siblings… and I’m….I’m…,“ you stop yourself, gulp back the heavy lump nestled in your throat.

Before you could continue, Spitfire interrupts. “You… you love him?” The room is once again deathly silent. You stay perched on your chair; face obscured by a tangled mane, Spitfire knelt before you.

It is than a flock of both nurses and doctors come storming past the waiting room and towards an operating room. “WE NEED HELP HERE, STAT!” shouts one of the ponies. You quickly hop up, leaving Spitfire on the floor, masked by a new coat of tears.

You pull one of the doctors aside, grab his sleeve, stare him in the face. “What’s going on?” you asked through unsteady breath, “Where is everypony running to?”

The doctor is frazzled, but struggles to escape your grip and join his colleagues. “It’s the Wonderbolt,” says the frantic doctor. “He’s just flat lined. We’re currently undergoing—“ He is cut off as both you and Spitfire race down the hall, pushing aside both ponies and tables of equipment, one room seems to be much more occupied than the rest.

The two of you run inside, only greeted by five doctors and nurses surrounding a single hospital bed. “Shit! He’s not breathing!” shouts a pony, “We’re gonna need the paddles.” Spitfire clasps her hoofs over her mouth, holding back a gasp and the will to faint. You only stare, wordless, thoughtless.

“CLEAR!” shouts a doctor, a surging shock of electricity followed by a flash of light fills the room. “CLEAR!” the doctor repeats, placing the paddles to the patient’s chest again. Another shock, another strobe-like flash.

The room goes quiet.

Spitfire runs for the bed, pushing aside countless ponies. “Soarin…,” she whimpers, “Soarin, please wake up, please snap out of it. Just wake up, Soarin! Just wake up! Please, I need you, Soarin! Please wake up!” She plants her head deep into his chest, nopony stops her, the crowd merely watches as the once strong, powerful mare lets herself melt away over her past brother… Soarin.

You… well whatever did happen to you? After Spitfire was finally pulled away, you seemed to be long gone.

You went to the pond that night; sat beneath the same leafless tree you and Soarin sat under, and you just stared at the moon. A part of you wanted to bite down on your hoof again, try to wake up from this dream. You wanted awake in your bed, fly to Soarin’s house, hug him and kiss him, remind him how much you love him, tell him about this crazy dream and how you’re so happy it was nothing but a dream.

Yet another part of you just wants to sit back, nestle yourself between the smooth rock forms, and let the world trudge on like it always does.

You think of that first kiss, the first date, the first flight you shared. How you could have never stopped that carriage, how you could have never stopped that drunk driver in time.

Though he’s gone, and the hope that this is all a dream fades away ever further, you know some things aren’t preventable. How we all face loss, understand it, power through it.

As you slowly drift to sleep, snuggled beneath the same tree Soarin held you tight, you always will remember that brave, young, pie loving stallion.

He will forever remain in your memory… he will forever care for you as you cared for him.

“Goodbye, Soarin,” you whisper aloud, “I love you…”