The magic bear: Starphyre's adventures

I awaken to sunlight pouring through the thin veil of cloth shielding me from exposure, my soulmate sleeping soundlessly beside me, his eyes peaceful, his body contorted into a strange position.

I think of getting up, going inside the wooden structure that is my house. I peer out, I feel something watching me.
And from above the tent flap, through the gossamer netting I see the source of my instinct, a towering chocolate brown beast with a yellow mask, (or is it his face) is peering down at me, he is paused. My heart races as realization dawns, and then he fades from my vision, leaving nothing but a gray tree, a dangling bunch of maple helicopters, and empty air. As my pulse winds down, excitement bursts into my heart.

I think of a bear! A magic one, with a yellow mask growing from his face, was he just passing by, and happened to see me? Who was this strange beast, watching me from above?

She is me: From StarPhyre's Poetry

I awaken to loneliness. First fear; fear of separation, and of closeness. Fear of the world around me, of the implications of my new eyes. I awaken to paranoia, their watching. Is it their world, is it mine? Is it time, has it come so soon? Have I run out of this precious illusion of a clock of delusion? But I know inside fear solves nothing, it is only the demon bred out of my sleep. I am battling with her, an inner battle. She wants normalcy, systems and games that twirl around in circles like a ferris wheel. I want freedom and fantasy, I want magic and dreams. She’s scared as she hides in her dark corner, wanting nothing more than to forget. To fall back into her deep dreamless sleep, where she is none to blame, none to take action. But as I move on, she fades as a distant horizon, as a shooting star, as a fading cloud the sky is clear, and she is me. She remembers the scent of wet moss and rainfall, and the crisp chilly air of the forest. She remembers the names of the land, of the fruits that bear witness to sunlight in springtime, of the leaves that unfurl towards the sky, of their poisons and their friends. She remembers the smell of hotel bathrooms and cheap laundry detergent from traveling in her childhood. She remembers the simple things are all that count. She is I, and I remember my dreams. The veil is lifted and my memories return, as scents as fresh in my mind as if it were yesterday, of images as close to my heart as if they were waiting for me tomorrow. Of joy so clear and pure and unquestioned, unhindered. Its so close I can touch it, hold her, that me that was and will be again.