When I woke up, he stood over me, though, obviously, and assuredly, he didn’t look nearly the same. Oh, no. A god, or the likeness of it stood before me. It slid from my mind, his true nature that is, as I stared at him. All vanished in the knowledge of my diminuity. Somehow, I couldn’t focus on that thought, though I tried. But I was dazzled. Not only by beauty, but by the certain manner, that spoke not only of assuredness, but also of the reasons behind it. He was incredible, beautiful, and had the mannerisms of one not of this world. My god, my Prince. I bowed. And he let me bow, and stay bowing.

“girl, get up now,” he said after a time. I rapidly sprang to my feet, though with a conscious effort to effect a graceful turn. He had called me, addressed me. This greek god of… “Kiss my hand,” I did so. “No, tell me a little about you. What are your aspirations.”

I was asked my opinion and my story. My Prince.

“I was born-”

“no, not that. Like I could care a less. Something entertaining.” I blushed, ashamed at my misconception. This was fairly soon soothed and overcome by a panic. Was I interesting? What had I done of import? I froze.

“I want to be a writer.”

“Silly profession. Meaningless, worthless. All writers are.” My god- he was right. I recoiled from my folly, which had previously been the butter of my life.

“I want to have a house with a porch and a cat. Contentment. Peace”

“If that is all you can attain. Contentment is another word for settling; peace one for lack of motivation.” I must do better! My opinion of myself sunk another notch.

“I want to fall in love. I want to matter.”

“GIRL!! All these stupid misconceptions? Are you stupid, or simple raised by stupid people?” He didn’t actually want an answer, “ It doesn’t matter- love doesn’t. If you want to matter, learn to succeed. Love is a wishy-washy thing. It won’t stand up. It’s an illusion we all grow out of, or so one would hope.” A bit of me died. I started to shake, and shiver. I looked up at him. He lost focus, meaning. Master?? I felt a longing. A longing to put myself into his hands, and know that at least in one thing, I was approved of, had succeeded. I lost consciousness. Blandly grey-white.

When I woke up, he was there again in his original form. I knew him, though I had indulged in the fancy of imagining that there was more. That the great were good, and that Princes really existed. I shuddered. Was it bad that I wanted this so badly? Not the twisted prince he portrayed, but someone on who to surrender my duties as a person, individual, woman. Was I good enough? Was I accomplishing enough to make it, last long enough on earth? I wondered, and slept again.