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The imaginary tends to become what is real- Andre Benton

Birds soar lazily across the robin’s egg sky that stretches on forever without a cloud. The sun beats down on the field before me, making the green grass more vibrant that it actually is. I am in the middle of the sea of gently waving blades. I’m wearing a dress, something I wouldn’t consider on a daily basis. My long, normally bush-like, fiery hair is braided in a long, thick line down my back. The one thing I couldn’t figure out is why I was here. That’s when I see him; I knew I would at some point. He’s always here. He takes a step towards me,
“Rose?” He asks he had an Irish accent. I cannot move, I can’t speak. I never can. All I can do is stand here and look ridiculous in this dress. He takes yet another step; his bleached-blonde hair was in need of another bleaching, the original brown color was beginning to show through. I didn’t know his name, “Rose, why won’t you say anything?” he asks, he is near to me now. This is where the dream normally begins to go bad, “Rose,” he says, he is close enough that I can see the blue of his eyes,
“Who are you?” I desire to ask, “Why do you keep appearing?” so many questions. I remain mute, however. What bad luck. He reaches out for me. I want to tell him to stop because I know what happens next. But he makes contact with my cheek and the ground doesn’t move. The sky doesn’t darken and nothing begins to run out of the woods, “They let it happen this time,” he mutters, staring at the sky. He remembers all of this? He remembers the times when he wasn’t even allowed to take a step? “Rose, speak to me,” he says, casting his eyes on me,
“I can’t” I say, it sounds distorted and weird. The look on my face must be of sheer confusion because the boy laughs. A pleasant, almost hysterical, sound. But soon after his face grows serious,
“Something is the matter,” he says, “The Fates have never...” he is cut off by the rumbling of the ground,
“Here we go,” I sigh, able to express my annoyance finally. The boy is already sinking into the ground,
“Goodbye,” he says, casually, “I’ll see you again tomorrow night,” he says, his chest disappears,
“What’s your name?” I ask him, it is too late as his face is already half in the ground. He is soon swallowed up and I wait for the darkness to come and for me to wake up. But instead another figure appears. A young girl of maybe 8 years old. She sees me and skips over in her flouncy dress that one would wear for dress up tea parties with stuffed animals. Her hair is in brown ringlets and her eyes are a warm brown color,
“Hello Rose,” she says, her eyes flash from brown to green. I ignore it. After seeing the boy disappear every night I was used to strange,
“Who are you?” I ask,
“I’m your Fate,” she replies,
“My Fate?” I ask, she nods,
“Yep, I’m in charge of everything to do with your fate,” she tells me, “That boy, is your true love,” she explains,
“Why does he keep disappearing then?” I ask her, she shakes her head,
“I don’t know,” she says, “The elders say it’s because you can never be together,” she says,
“But if he’s my true love,” I say, trailing off,
“It’s not your fault,” she says, her eyes flash blue, “That boy is part of one of the most popular bands on earth. It’s statistically improbable that you two will ever meet,” she tells me, she looks sorry for me,
“But you’re in charge of my fate; you can make sure we meet right?” I ask,
“I can’t, I’m not strong enough. I make sure you dream of each other every night though. And I make sure you remember in the morning,” she tells me,
“But that means nothing,” I say,
“Not true, he thinks about you often Rose. He wonders who you are, just like you wonder who he is,” she tells me,
“How can I meet him?” I ask her, she shrugs,
“Get lucky, maybe go to a meet and greet,” she says, I frown, “I’m sorry I can’t do more,” she tells me, patting my arm, “Once I am stronger I will, I promise,” she tells me, I believe her, “But until then try to find him. Maybe you’ll have a stroke of luck,” she says, smiling,
“Maybe,” I say, “Say, what band is he in?” you ask, “What’s his name?” she grins.
“You’re about to find out,” she says, “I must go, you’re going to be late,” she tell me. Turning and skipping away. The darkness envelops me.

I wake up panting. I sit up and glance at the clock, 7:01. I was going to be late. I rush around pulling on clothes and trying to desperately fix my lion’s mane of red hair. I hear Anna honk at 7:15 as I’m brushing my teeth. I quickly pull on socks, shoes and my jacket. I rush out to Anna’s car,
“Rosie,” Anna says, “You’re wearing your bra outside your shirt. Go change,” she says, I glance down, groan and run back inside. Once I was fixed I joined Anna in the car and we headed off to school. She was playing a new CD,
“Who’s this?” I asked, rummaging for the CD case,
“A new band I’ve become obsessed with,” she says, “They’re called One Direction,” she tells me, I find the CD case and look at the front cover. 4 guys and a red telephone booth,
“British?” I ask her, she nods,
“One’s Irish,” she says, “The blonde one, Niall,” she tell me, I look at the cover,
“There isn’t a blonde one,” I say,
“In the phone booth,” she says, I see him then. He looked vaguely familiar. I take out the booklet in front and flip through the pages. On about the 4th page there was a better picture of Niall, I gasped and dropped the booklet. It was him. The guy from my dream. I picked the booklet up and looked at it again. The same blue eyes, same hair, it was him exactly,
“How popular are they?” I ask Anna as she turns into the parking lot of the school building,
“One of the most popular bands in the world right now,” she replies, I sit there staring at the guy named Niall,
“Oh my God,” I say, the Fate was right. As Anna parked the car I sat awestruck. As we got out I thought: ‘Well, at least I know his name now,’