Page 36 of Barbie: Dreamscape

I sit up, then reach toward the dark center of one, full of seeds.

All of a sudden, all those centers become clocks framed in petals, ticking down the time. The pine cones on the trees around the grove become rattles, ringing, ringing, ringing.

Spiderwebs become harp strings, branches become violin bows, and it’s getting too loud, it’s reverberating through my skull—I stumble, trip over a rock, and fall back.

Right through the ground, all the way until I’m standing upright again, this time somewhere completely different.

A giant pink house sits before me

I look down. My necklaces are glowing. So is the shell charm.

A key is near.

Finally.

I race toward the home and knock to be polite, then barge my way in when no one answers. “Hello?” I call out.

No one responds.

I creep through the hall and peer around a corner.

There’s a phone in the kitchen. A phone. I wonder if it could possibly work between lands. I reach for it, desperate to talk to Callie. Maybe she can find a book in the library about this strange world. Maybe she can get a message to Robin.

But the moment I lift it up, it becomes—

“A hair dryer?” I exclaim. It starts blowing in my face. I set it back down.

It’s official. This world is annoying me.

Clearly, the feeling is mutual. I wince at the branches stuck in my hair, the dirt coating my still storm-wet outfit.

Ugh. Maybe I do need that hair dryer…

That’s when I remember I can change my outfits. I grip my necklaces, and—

Better. I’m wearing my favorite pink blazer and pant set, and pink sneakers with a strong tread that will help me traverse these ever-changing forest floors. Maybe overall too formal for these circumstances, but I feel strong in this. Confident. I was wearing this outfit in debate class when I gave the speech that earned me a perfect score (so much for that).

I wonder if my mom ever wore this. If some of that confidence I’m feeling was stitched into the clothing, giving some of her strength to me…

My eyes burn, thinking about it. That these clothes are more than just their fabrics. That maybe—

Just then, there’s a shimmering sound outside. I walk toward the kitchen window, nervous to see what the lawn has morphed into in my brief absence.

The glass has a rainbow tinge, making it hard to see through. I lean forward, against the glass—only for it to give way. To pop, really.

I tumble right through it, into the garden outside.

“Bubble window, really?” I say, before realizing what I fell into isn’t a rosebush as I’d thought, but a sticky cloud of cotton candy.

I look around the newly emerged front garden and—of course.

The landscaping isn’t made of nature at all. It’s 100% candy. Licorice instead of stems, peppermint instead of flowers. In the center of a fountain there’s—

Yep. Chocolate.

What even is this land? How do people live here?

Does anyone live here?