A Bridge of Wildflowers

Laying inside a field of wildflowers, Lana stretched out luxuriously, feeling every blade of grass slide along her skin. She felt so intimately connected with her surroundings, not just the flowers but the tree in the distance, and the vast pink of a dawn sky, that she didn't know where they ended and she began.

But she was the flowers most of all, gently opening themselves up to the sun in a display of colors that put fireworks to shame and she reveled in their soft warmth, reflecting like an echo bouncing around inside of her.

A smell of coffee, a smell that didn't belong, arose and the dream broke and the warmth of the flowers divided into the warmth of her down comforter and a different heat deep inside of her.

Mirroring her action in the dream, she reached out and languidly pulled herself into a stretch, enjoying the feel of her muscles expanding and contracting. She was sore and full, although not as full as she had been, and happy. She didn't need a mirror to know that her smile was a satisfied one.