A Dream of Faeries

I dreamt about faeries last night. There were half a dozen of them, and they appeared to be frolicking among the wildflowers. However, there was something strange and even horribly conceited about them and the way they danced. What can be the matter with them? I wondered if they were drunk on the sweet scents of wildflowers. The scents which were honeyed to their core. The scents which seemed to be rising every passing minute. But as twilight approached, their movements slowed down gradually. And as the moon appeared and the starlight fell on the meadows, their melodious laughter softened to an almost-whisper, as if they were afraid to disturb the stars from their slumber. And then, when I lifted my gaze to those silent stars, I saw streaks of Northern Lights wavering dreamily in the night sky, but when I looked back down, I found myself alone in a mute, forlorn meadow.