And if the world won't give us a home,

Then we will make one of our very own

It was a whisper dancing in the air; the most pensive of laughs from the wind as the sun sluggishly crept to its seat above Ponyville.  Somewhat resistant to Celestia’s urges, it nevertheless cast a warm amber glow across the hills and timber-framed houses, and teased morning lullabies from the throats of nesting birds.

  As the fragile light bathed her face, Twilight Sparkle woke from her slumber, and looked up with heavy eyes and a dry mouth.  It took a few moments of staring out of the window opposite to realise that she had fallen asleep at her desk, and a frown creased her face as she took in the small puddles of drool wrinkling the pages of the book beneath her hooves.

  By the grace of Celestia – was this the third or the fourth time now? The Alicorn enjoyed the feeling of closing her eyes – just for a moment – as she exhaled.  Well, she decided, for dignity’s sake let’s just say it’s the third.

  She rose from her seat with a groan and stretched her limbs.  Her wings felt sluggish again today – as though they were still having trouble acclimatising to her body – and they cracked loudly as she flexed them.  In the moments of silence that followed, a cold shiver trickled down her spine.  There was something today that just didn’t feel right.

  A quick mental checklist seemed to confirm her fears.  For a start, the air definitely felt heavy – almost foreign to her lungs – and the morning sounds were muted and distant; neither a good sign. Looking down at the door leading from her bedroom, Twilight nodded.  It looked simultaneously like something that had been painted onto the wall, but was also able to shrink and shift away from her gaze like it wasn't really there.  Yes, something was definitely wrong here.

  She realised what it was the moment she placed a hoof on the first step down from her mezzanine bedroom.  This was Golden Oak Library – and she didn’t live here anymore.  In fact, it should be nothing more than a charred ruin; a bittersweet landmark to the necessities of friendship.

  As her brain tried to process the anomaly, Twilight suddenly became aware of a thick shadow leaking across the interior of the room, and her throat tightened in horror as she looked out the window at its source.  Outside, at least a hundred meters high, a churning wall of water towered above Ponyville and the surrounding countryside.  As wide as they were, her eyes could still barely take in its length as it arched through the air.  

  No.  Just, no! This – this can’t be happening!  The Alicorn looked about desperately as the tsunami finally collapsed under its own weight and fell towards the town like a glittering storm.  Surely Princess Celestia…or, or Luna, or even Cadence must be aware – surely somepony must be doing something?  Her legs wobbled and buckled beneath her and, try as she might, she just couldn’t will her body to move.

  “Please,” she found herself whispering through dry lips.  “Celestia, help us.  Help me.”  She swallowed.  It couldn’t be left to her alone, it just couldn’t – not this.  But as the water smashed into Ponyville, and swept towards Golden Oak Library, Twilight Sparkle realised that she was very much alone, and more scared than she had ever been in her life.

  And then the water reached the library, and her life became a roiling world of blue.

  She met the hard floor as a shrieking tangle of bed-sheets, limbs and wings.

  The coolness of the smooth crystal cut through her panic in an instant, and Twilight stopped struggling against the twists of fabric long enough for her lungs to kick in and start breathing nice and slow and deep.

  It’s okay, she told herself in the minutes that followed.  It was just a dream.

  She pulled herself from the bed-sheets and sat upright, her body feeling sticky with the sweat of disturbed sleep.  The room was dark – Celestia had not yet teased the sun awake – and as her eyes acclimatised to the gloom Twilight tried to clear her muddled thoughts.

  “Just a dream,” she repeated her thoughts aloud, and as the sound of her own cracked voice echoed back from the vaulted ceiling she started to sob.  By Celestia, that had been scary – and so, so real.  The Alicorn licked her dry lips and swallowed, positive she could taste the saltwater still.

  No, this was completely irrational.  She could control this.  Twilight steadied her breathing before climbing to her hooves and trotting to the bedside table, where her dream journal waited.

  “Although the level of clarity will vary, there will nevertheless always exist a relationship between the real world and the dream world.” She repeated the quotation like a mantra – her horn dimly lighting the room as a pen scribbled notes in the journal.  “And there’s nothing like study and research to identify those relationships.”

  Closing the journal, she levitated another book from the shelf above and lay down on her bed to read.

  “So, let’s see what that particular dream world tells me about my subconscious, Professor Lockheart,” she murmured, magically lighting the lamp above her head.  Despite sensing that the cold fingers of the watery nightmare were still reaching for her, Twilight nevertheless felt a slight ripple of excitement pass through her body at an opportunity to explore the unknown.  “Here there be dragons, and all that.”

  She skimmed past the sections discussing the royal road and imagery rehearsal therapy – she had already become familiar with the theoretical side of dreaming – and pored through the common interpretations of dreams.  Eventually she found what she was looking for, and traced the words with a hoof.

  “Hm, acute manifestations of feeling lost and overwhelmed huh?” The Alicorn rolled her eyes.  “Well gee Professor, perhaps try being a little more specific?”  She sunk into the embrace of the pillow as she debated the interpretation, but her eyes were caught by how the crystal walls glittered in the light of the lamp, and her stomach twisted into a knot so quickly it felt like a reflex action.

  Twilight Sparkle, Princess of the most abstract kingdom in all of – well, it was hard to be specific about that when you ruled over something that lacked physical boundaries.  She blinked, and then blinked again; attempted to hide the thought away – to lock it up, Pinkie-style, in a box, maybe; then in a room, in a house, on the moon – but it was just no good.  Every time she thought she had buried it deep, she was suddenly pulling it free and playing with it until the edges became frayed and the stitching fell apart, and all she was left with was a tattered piece of fear and worry.  Eventually, Twilight gave up, and trotted moodily downstairs to make some coffee.  What did Professor Lockheart know anyway?

  Between the smell of brewing coffee and the first rays of crisp dawn light creeping through the narrow windows of the hall, Twilight began to feel like a calm and rational pony again.  She looked from the worktop to where Spike was sleeping – his blankets dusted with gemstone crumbs – and smiled.  The little dragon’s rhythmic snores felt like a balm to her nerves, and she gently chided herself.  Things always feel worse at night.

  Her thoughts drifted to the day ahead, and suddenly her spirits were soaring again.  Today was a day gift-wrapped just for her – something befitting Twilight Sparkle, the academic librarian, rather than Twilight Sparkle, princess of friendship – and she couldn’t wait.  She just needed a few hours to properly wake up before –

  The knock on the front door downstairs was far too loud and far too insistent.  Twilight also noted that the heavy rat-tat-tat-tat sounded like the last percussion solo in Canthoven’s Lost Symphony Number Eight, and she winced as she made her way down to admit the visitor.  Over the years of living at the library she had identified and recorded the knocks of everypony that had visited out of hours – she hadn’t intended to, obviously, it had just developed from a theory.  Applejack’s, for example, was one single impact – a full-stop of a knock, whereas Lyra’s sounded like half of a harmony desperately seeking its counterpart.  

  This one though.  Twilight slowly opened the door.  This one…

  “Waffles of super earliness!” Pinkie Pie cried, as she leapt into the castle and thrust a wicker basket into Twilight’s hooves.  Behind her, the other four ponies at least had the good grace to look tired and apologetic.