Click.
You yawn, idly scrolling through another page of images. How long have you been doing this now? Three? Four hours? You forget. Closing your eyes, you listen to the soft pitter-patter of the summer rain against your window. It was quiet, and the only light in the room was from the screen in front of you.
A faint memory surfaces in the back of your mind. What was it again? So close, yet so far-- just out of reach yet as familiar as ever. Something colorful-- something bright; something dull-- something dark. A shallow sigh escapes your lips as you scroll to the next page.
Should you be sleeping? Yes. Can you sleep? No. Are you sleeping now? You didn't know.
Another sigh. You shut off the screen, bathing your room in darkness as you feel for your bed.
Tired-- that was the feeling. You were tired. It'd been a long day, and sleep was what you wanted. But it was beyond your reach. You lie on the bed, eyes wide open. You count your breaths. One, two, three, four, more-- you close your eyes, and open them again.
How many times did you do that? How many sleepless days led to sleepless nights? There were too many to count.
Yet, ever so slowly, you finally begin to feel your eyes shut themselves.
Warmth.
Flame.
Your eyes flutter open. This place-- this wasn't your room anymore. You sit before a fireplace, wrapped in a blanket.
"Honey--" a voice calls behind you, "--don't sit so close to the fireplace. You could burn yourself."
Scooting back a little, the intensity of the heat dies down. A mug floats down beside you, enveloped in a teal-blue aura. You begin to stand, but your mother sits down beside you, a mug of her own in her hooves.
"How was school today?" she asks, "Did you eat all of your lunch?"
What were these questions? You've been out of school for years now... right? Regardless of context, you nod anyway, taking the hovering mug into your own hooves.
"Your teacher's been saying great things about you, sport," your father joins in, sitting opposite your mother. "Thanks for holding up through all of that. We know this year's been tough, but you sure pulled through. We're proud of you."
What... what was this? This wasn't your life, was it? Or... you stare deeper into your parents' faces. Was this real? All of this couldn't possibly be happening, right? This had to be some kind of trickery... right?
No.
You jerk awake. You're in your room again. So it was a dream after all. You sigh, closing your eyes again. At least you finally got some sleep.
The creak of your door catches your attention, but you remain still. Was this an intruder? Were you about to be robbed?
A light clink rings out from the desk beside your bed. You feel a hand on your forehead.
"Oh, you have a fever. I'll call ahead and tell your teacher that you're sick. He'll understand. Just rest now."
The door squeaked shut again. Slowly, you open your eyes, peering at your desk. A mug sits beside you, a light curl of steam barely-visible in the dim moonlight rising into the air. You reach for the mug, pulling it closer to you. Just a fever. Just a fever... dream.
You close your eyes, blowing your drink. You take a sip, taking a moment to let the light taste of honey sink in.
You open them again. You're back in that place. You blink, reality and imagination growing ever closer to one another. Staring down into your drink, all you see is a flicker.
A flicker of reality.
A flicker of imagination.
A flicker... of something.
You look up again. Your mother-- the one in this world, is still sitting beside you, a hoof on your shoulder.
Her hand slips away, and she rises from your bed.
Grades. What about your grades? Your father said he was proud that you were succeeding, but--
"Hey, don't sweat it. We all get sick sometimes," your father smiles, ruffling your hair. "You can always come in and get help on your assignments to catch up again."
You glance past the rim of your mug to see a stallion smiling back at you. It looks like he's been watching all this time. Setting the mug down, he takes a slow breath. Something within those weary eyes of his comforts you.
"Dad, I--" you begin, but he cuts you off.
"I know," he nods. "We know. It's okay."
You nod, closing your eyes again. The yellow-orange flickers of the fire dance beyond your vision. Distant thunder crackles outside.
"I've called your teacher," your mother's voice comes through the mare sitting beside you. "He can send you your work later today. Don't worry about finishing it if you can't."
You blink. The ponies around you disappear, leaving you in your room again. Your father is still sitting at the end of your bed, himself still half-asleep. Your mother stands in the doorway, worried eyes still focused on you.
Another blink. Everything's back.
And another. Nothing.
Everything.
Nothing.
Something.
A hand, a hoof. You look up again. The sun's beginning to rise. How much time had passed? What... what was even happening?
The silhouette of Celestia rises with the coming dawn. Your father stands up, raising the blinds.
Ponies pass through the streets beneath your window, doing pony things as ponies tend to do. A mint-green unicorn stares back at you, but only as a passing glance.
"Hey!" your friend shouts back from below, "You feelin' alright there? Your mom told me you're sick!"
You try to speak, but your throat protests. You nod your head instead, glancing back over your shoulder. Since when did you crawl to this end of your bed?
Smoldering embers sat within the fireplace, a dull-red glow running along their cracks. You draw the blanket closer, cold hands and hooves straining for warmth.
Another mug of tea is set down beside you. Reaching with a hoof, you wrap your fingers around the handle and pull it into your blanket mountain.
