Harley
I knew I had to be dreaming, because I wouldn’t be caught dead with long hair. The last time my hair had grown past my shoulders I’d been six. And I had taken my father’s beard trimmer and promptly shaved it right down to my scalp. Not to mention, in this dream I was wearing the most gaudy and shapeless dress and pinafore.
There was no doubt that I was dreaming, I knew this wasn’t me, and yet… it was. Because as I tiptoed through the school, I felt all the feelings this girl was feeling, deep in my body.
I was in the Westbane Reformatory, but not as we had found it, unkept and vandalized. No, in my dream it was polished to a shine. I could practically see my reflection in the floors, and all the woodwork was gleaming. There was beautiful brocade furniture in the grand sitting ro
