I knew it was a dream. The fringes of the scene were threaded with gold, and the air was shimmery, like a highway on a hot day. I was walking in a meadow, running my fingers through the tall grass.

I was aware that I was here for a purpose – the anticipation thrummed in my blood, making my heart beat like the nearly invisible wings of a hummingbird. But like most dreams, I wasn’t sure exactly what I was waiting for; I would simply have to wait and see.

Suddenly, I saw a figure step out from behind a tree. My heart kicked into overdrive, and I stopped dead in my tracks.

It was him. The fuzzy-faced hero of my dreams. The one who always rid me of ill-tempered dragons and leering villains and then pulled me oh-so-tenderly into his arms. The kiss never happened though because the dream gods apparently had a twisted sense of humor, always waking me up before I could pucker up.

But wait. There was no emergency here. No villains or dragons. No damsel-in-distress. And holy cow, his face was no longer fuzzy.