A multitude of stars adorned the sweeping sky, whilst thunderous magentas and purple hues dominated the zenith, casting a broad trail of berry-stained cotton. Her knees trembled at this unworldly sight, with a sigh from her quivering lips. Lustrous! Lustrous! Her mouth was agape! A dark syrup cascaded down their soft peaks, sweet and sharp, curling towards her with stretched, soft reaches. She was minuscule on this new, grand scale, and albeit a usually hopeless thought, it remained in the disarray of her dreamy stupor as a glimmer shone in her dark eyes. She was nearing a coast, and the faintest glimpse of the water’s crests peeked and beckoned. The winds pushed and pulled, but she paid no mind. Her mind was adrift, in fact, yet she instinctively reached for her camera like she always had. Her state was plain in her manner, as her panicked hands worked around her satchel’s latch. Even in her condition she knew such a sight would not last forever, and she wished to capture this rarity. It was truly a sight to behold. To her dismay, she found that the lens was permanently fixated on her face, on her hands, on anything but that sky. She watched as her own expression faltered, a countenance that brimmed with disappointment. The glimmer had yet to falter, however. In a matter of a few moments, she found herself anew, blinking away drowsiness as she rose from the depths of her slumber. That vision, worthy of apocalyptic design, solely appears in the hours of uncertainty, where the clouds cast the neighborhood in dim shades of blue and time is still. In those moments, she finds herself back in that dream, placing her hopes in the fact that lightning can strike twice.