Dreams of Stars Chapter 1 (Once Upon a Time)

Well, here goes. My Once Upon A Time/Jiminy Cricket fanfiction. Unfortunately, "Dreams of Stars" is not as non-fan-friendly as my Jigoku Shoujo stories. This is mainly due to spoilers, but it's also simply because "Once Upon a Time" is not as conducive to non-fan-friendly fanfictions. In order to make the story flow smoothly, I had to assume the reader knew some things. Still, it is readable by non-fans (but if you want to avoid spoilers, watch the show first--just through Season 2--and then read the story). Your choice!

That said, "Dreams of Stars" develops the backstory of my favorite character, Jiminy Cricket, from the perspective of a girl named Kaelin (who's from this English fairy tale, "The Stars in the Sky": http://www.essentia.com/book/stories/skystar.htm ). Personally, I loved writing it. After I was done, I felt as though I'd been on a journey with the characters involved (Geppetto is also a very important character!), and I loved them in the show even more. As with all my fanfictions, I did my level best to stay as true to the original as possible, and to try to create the feeling and style of the original. Enjoy!

(By the way, if you haven't watched "Once Upon a Time", I HIGHLY recommend it. It's beautiful, extremely well-written, often unexpected, and often even profound. Though I'm generally skeptical of reworked fairy tales, this one really captured me in a way few stories do. Watch it!)

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           “Bridget, you’ll be late for your appointment!” Mother Superior cried, finding her out in the garden.

The green cricket Bridget Maxwell had been watching with fascination jumped and dove under a rock as she stood up hurriedly. Anxiety filled her. Oh yes. Her first appointment with the psychologist was today. Bridget longed for someone to help her become less timid, less clumsy, less of a burden on everyone…but she was scared even at the thought of talking to a psychologist. What would she say?

Maybe the psychologist would help her know what to say. Maybe she would help Bridget along with questions. Bridget tried to comfort herself with these ideas. Yes, she would force herself to be confident this time. She wouldn’t mess up.

Well, she knew she would mess up, anyway. She always did. In her heart, she was convinced that everyone was secretly annoyed with her, even if they didn’t all show it. She was so awkward.

That was why the Sisters of Saint Meissa had decided she needed to see a psychologist. Bridget was 17 and still in school, but she was being raised by the nuns. Before long, she would be out on her own, and at that point, she would need to be able to do something to support herself.

Weaving her way through the slim, multi-colored irises, Bridget followed Mother Superior out to her car. She climbed into the front seat and turned her head to admire the sky through the window. It was a beautiful afternoon, despite a cool bite in the air. The clouds rose up in tall, majestic towers with just a little orange reflecting off of them from the sun that was approaching the horizon. As Bridget stared up at them, she could almost imagine them as kingdoms in the sky. She stared and imagined herself standing up there in one of the cloud’s shadowed crevices, craning her head back to see high, soft walls around her. On days when the clouds were as beautiful as this, she almost felt like she could be confident and do things right.

Of course, you only think that when you’re sitting in the car doing nothing, she told herself with a derisive smile. As the car began to trundle down the charming streets of Storybrooke, she turned away from the window and stared down at her folded hands. Her chin-length, straight-trimmed, black hair slightly blocked her view of the shops going by, shading her olive-colored face. That’s your problem anyway, isn’t it? You always have your head in the clouds and do nothing here in the real world. You live in your dreams.

In truth, though she practically did seem to live in her dreams, she desperately hoped the psychologist wouldn’t try to make her stop. Maybe the only way for her to live in the real world was for her to destroy the continual distraction of those dreams, but still she loved them. She hadn’t told anyone about them and resolved not to tell even the psychologist. She would try to take them away from her. In her dreams at night, Bridget escaped to a more beautiful world.

Shortly, they arrived at a brick building in one corner of Storybrooke. Going inside, they climbed a flight of stairs and followed a narrow, carpeted hallway. There was a pale door nestled at the end of the hallway.

“Go ahead and knock,” Mother Superior said, nodding to Bridget.

She expects me to knock? Bridget thought with a sudden wave of fright. What if she interrupted the psychologist in the middle of something important? Bridget lifted a fist to knock on the door, then let it fall. She tried again but was still too nervous.

“This is your appointment time,” Mother Superior tried to assure her, “You won’t be surprising anyone.”

Bridget wasn’t sure whether her nervousness came from the fear that she might be somehow unexpected, or simply from the fear of meeting the psychologist. Or maybe it was something completely different. Bridget was so confused, she didn’t even know why she was this nervous. She hated being so confused, but it was like this for her all the time.

Finally, she built up the courage to summon a timid, almost inaudible knock. She was sure at first that the psychologist hadn’t heard it, but a moment later, the door swung abruptly open and a man stood there. He had an oval-shaped face, red, curly hair, and round glasses, their rims mottled with red, orange, and black. His eyes were blue-gray, and he had a few, thin little smile lines that seemed randomly distributed in his round cheeks. The first thing Bridget noticed about him was how his mouth seemed somewhat too high up from his chin. The second thing she noticed was the patterned sweater he wore under his plain, greenish-brown suit. An odd choice of style, but it strangely suited him.

Actually, the first thing Bridget had noticed about him was that he was a man. She had fully expected a female psychologist, and for a moment, she was mortified at the realization that her counselor would be a he and not a she. Bridget felt that this should make her all the more nervous, but to her surprise, it didn’t. There was something entirely non-threatening about the man’s appearance and demeanor—something honest and well-intentioned.

More than that, in the first split-second that Bridget saw him, she felt an odd flash of nostalgia, as though she had known and trusted this person for a long time. She had never seen him before, so far as she could recall, but in that one instant, he seemed familiar. She couldn’t bring herself to be afraid of him.

Suddenly, Bridget realized that she had just completely spaced out. She was staring at him. Blushing, she abruptly looked down at the floor. She strongly felt she should say something, but she was unable to muster up even a simple greeting. A little squeak that sounded somewhat like, “hello, sir,” escaped her. That would have to do for now.

“Oh—” the psychologist blinked. Had he spaced out for a moment too? “Uh, you must be Bridget,” he went on hurriedly, “My name is Dr. Hopper. Come in.” He stepped abruptly to one side, holding the door for them.

Mother Superior nodded at Bridget to go in. Bridget went just through the door, then turned back. She opened her mouth to ask whether she would be alone with Dr. Hopper, then hesitated because the question seemed far too awkward to be spoken aloud.

“There will be someone here in an hour to take you back home,” Mother Superior said. Then she left. Dr. Hopper shut the door behind her.