Trapped in Her Mind

Trapped in her mind.

I wish to say, though I hate to admit it, that my favourite place is never-ending depths of my own imagination. It's a little place where no one can bother you, a little place to call your own.

It can look however I want it to look and make me feel however I want to feel. There can be anyone I want in my special place. I can make them act how you want them to act. I can make them do things that they wouldn't do in reality. Though it is not reality, it is somewhere I can feel safe and happy.

It is portable. I can take it anywhere I want, anywhere I feel like thinking or fantasizing. It's you're my own, mine and no one else's. I make rules, and if I don't like it, it can simply be changed.

My place is very special.

It begins so simply, at a door. A large oak door with a brass handle that I always feel curios about. I can hear the sound of trickling water. I am excited and I want to open this door. I open it.

I am greeted by a sound unlike any other, a rich, unearthly sound. It sounds like some giant person running there wet fingers along a thousand crystal glasses accompanied by the soft tones of a harp. Playing a soft, mellow music that makes my feel warm. The trickling water stops and I look around, but WOW! What a place!

I am bathed in a soft moon light in the sky, dotted with a thousand stars at every angle, each one spelling a different picture and panting a different name.

The trees are all different, brilliant blue. Midnight blue, pale blue, sapphire blue, indigo, sky blue, take your pick. Each leaf is different from the last. A soft, glittering light is dazzling me on the tree trunks and on each one is baby blue ivy growing elegantly across each trunk. The breeze gently brushes the leaves but makes no sound at all.

Standing in the ground, from one-six feet high are tall ice-coloured crystals. Shining bright on the ground from the crystals is every colour ever, creating a rainbow of colours to suit my mood. Reflecting the glow of the moon in the sky and revealing my image in their crystal depths.

The grass is a sapphire blue and feels soft and cold against my bare feet.

I am dressed in a long white gown with little sequins around the breast and a gold rim around the waist. My red hair tumbling from a pearl hair band and a small ring perched on my middle finger.

I come to clearing in the forest. Within this clearing is a lake so clear it makes the crystals green with envy. Just above this lake is a waterfall silently falling into the lake below, creating ripple after ripple after ripple. Never making a sound or even a whisper for me to hear.

Sitting so elegantly in this lake is a boy. He has a head full of untidy black hair and a face of an angel. He looks at me with his astonishingly green eyes and beckons me over. I can make him do whatever I want.

I find myself suddenly, though I do not know how, in a bikini the same colour as my gown. I climb into the lake. It's so warm and soothing, I feel like melting into its watery depths.

I want him to kiss me.

He kisses me. Even though his body is sparkled with drops of water and his black hair is falling into his face, it does not turn me off. His soft, pale, juicy lips still caressing mine. His soft hands are laid gently on my face. His body is so warm and soft that I never want to let go. I never want to stop loving him.

I sometimes find myself waking from my fantasy to find myself kissing my hand or sitting in the bath without knowing how I got there. My mind carries me away, sometimes.

The disappointment is unbelievable when you stop and you find that you are just in your room, not kissing Harry, not in that special place.

I never really kissed him at all, but God how I wished I had. How I wish and long for just one kiss. Just to have one simple kiss. It's not that much to ask for.

I remember when Cho Chang broke Harry's heart. I bled for him and cried for him. She only ever loved him for who he was, not for the person he was. She loved his fame and popularity. She only wanted to see if her beloved Cedric had said anything about her before he died. If Cedric were still alive she wouldn't look twice at Harry. His death just gives her a reason to act like a human hosepipe. I wish Cedric were still alive so she would leave Harry and me alone. Leave my dream and me alone.

Hermione says it does not do to dwell on dreams. That what I fantasise will probably never come true. That I can't even taste or touch or hear or smell my fantasy. So? I'm happy aren't I, I feel safe don't I. What is wrong with that I might ask? As long as I can dream and fantasise, I don't care. As long as I'm with Harry I don't care.

I don't care!