V2. Amara and A Dream of Wonder

One golden afternoon, when the sun felt like a warm blanket, a thoughtful girl named Amara found a quiet meadow. It was a quilt of green, stitched with wildflowers like tiny jewels of purple, yellow, and blue. She lay down, carefully settling her head on a patch of clover so she wouldn’t flatten her beautifully beaded braids. The lazy hum of bumblebees was a gentle song, and it lulled her right to sleep.

And as she slept, Amara began to dream a dream more vivid than any she’d had before.

In this dream, she wasn’t a girl. She had no braids, no arms, no legs for running. Instead, she had wings—magnificent wings painted in brilliant shades of sunset orange and sky blue. She could feel the gentle power in them as she lifted off the ground, lighter than a dandelion seed. She was a butterfly.

[Pause and Wonder… During Your Reading] Have you ever had a dream where you were something or someone else? How did it feel to be different in your dream?

She soared and dipped, tasting the world in a new way. The nectar from a trumpet vine tasted of sunshine and honey. The dew on a rose petal was cool and refreshing. She danced on the currents of the wind, greeting grasshoppers and chasing sunbeams through the tall blades of grass. The memory of being a girl named Amara, of books and beads and bedtime, faded like mist in the morning. She was simply, joyfully, a butterfly living a butterfly’s perfect day.

Suddenly, a change. Not a sound, but a feeling—a slow, heavy return. Her wings felt different. Her eyes fluttered open.

The sun was still warm on her skin. The bees were still humming their sleepy tune. She was herself again—Amara, a girl lying in the meadow grass. She felt the solid weight of her arms and legs. She reached up and touched the familiar, smooth beads woven into her braids. There was no doubt; she was Amara.

[Pause and Wonder… During Your Reading] Amara felt so completely like a girl when she woke up. How does the story describe the difference between feeling like a butterfly and feeling like a girl? How do you imagine they are different?

But the dream had felt just as real. The feeling of the wind under her wings was as clear as the feeling of the grass beneath her back. A strange and marvelous question drifted into her mind, as light and beautiful as the butterfly she had been.

She sat up and whispered it to the nodding wildflowers and the listening sky.

“Am I a girl who just dreamed she was a butterfly? Or am I a butterfly, asleep on a flower petal somewhere, who is now dreaming she is a girl?”

Amara smiled. She didn’t need to know the answer. She lay back down, content to watch the clouds drift by, realizing that the world is full of wonderful, beautiful mysteries. And somewhere, a butterfly with wings of orange and blue danced on the breeze, perhaps dreaming of a girl with beautiful braids.