I hate this dream.

It’s always the same. It’s as if my brain is laughing at me for finally choosing to do something.

Once again I found myself peering around the castle’s library door. Twilight was seated in her favorite chair, accompanied by a book and a mug of tea. From this vantage point I could see her eyes scanning across the lines of text, her contented smile, and the occasional flick of her tail. No pony reads like she does. To her books are like ice cream. To me they’re usually just dumbbells.

Right on queue, she took a sip of tea and glanced my way. “Spike, did you finish reshelving the encyclopedias?”

“Yeah. Could I… uh… I mean, I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?”

“Okay, have fun.”

If only she’d say something different. What I wouldn’t give for her to have spilled that stupid tea and asked me to clean it up. Instead I smiled and made a run for the front door.

Things began so simply. My work for the day was done, and Twilight didn’t have any huge assistant-abusing projects, for once. I was so happy that day. Nervous too, but mostly happy. Reliving it in a recurring dream is completely different, and not just because I know how it all ends. Dreams are weird, and this one was no exception.

Twilight’s castle is big. There’s no way around that. When you’re a tiny little dragon, though, Twilight herself is big, and her castle is enormous. My jaunt down the crystalline staircase shifts from mundane to surreal with every footfall. The first time I thought the steps were getting steeper, rather than the truth. Arriving at the front door, a monolith twice its normal height, clears up that misconception.

I haven’t had to stand on my tiptoes to reach a door handle in years, at least not in real life. In this dream, though, I could just barely wrap my claws around the handle. The sound of the latch turning, the sound of my escape, felt like a minor earthquake. The world shuddered as the door creaked open and admitted a pale beam of afternoon sunlight. I was out and there was only one thing, or rather one pony, on my mind.

Ponyville is a nice enough place. Nobody ever makes a big deal about me being a dragon, baby or otherwise. Walking down the street with a supposedly foolproof plan in my head and a fistful of bits in my hand should’ve made me feel big, like it did in real life. Instead I kept second-guessing myself, and every time I did I’d get a tiny bit smaller. Somehow this doesn’t seem to bother the ponies though, not even Rose when I approached her flower stand and knocked on the front of it.

Rose peered over the top and looked down at me, which unfortunately meant I could see up her nose. “Hi there, Spike. Did you need something?”

A wake up call is what I needed. “One dozen of your finest roses, please.”

In retrospect, I’m sure her look of surprise was completely innocent. I mean, how many customers came by and asked for twelve of her namesake flower on a Tuesday afternoon? Still, I remember wondering if she thought I was serious. What does a gem-eating baby dragon need with gourmet flowers, anyway?

I wish she’d said no. I wish she’d chased me away with a pair of hedge clippers. Instead she dropped a paper-wrapped bundle into my arms that, at my current size, felt like an extra-large sleeping bag.

By the time I reached my destination, I was dragging a bouquet behind me and stepping around the taller blades of grass. A wooden door the size of a mountain loomed in front of me. I knocked, wondering if she’d hear me, and half-wishing she wouldn’t.

Then Rarity was standing right there in the doorway, larger than life and just as beautiful as the day we met. It didn’t matter than I was an inch tall. I had her attention, and now was the moment I’d waited for. The moment I’ve relived every night since.

She laughed her adorable laugh and patted me on the head. “Why, Spike, are these for me? They’re lovely.”

I wanted to say plenty, but I didn’t need to.

“Some day, Spike, you will make somepony very happy.”

I love her.

I hate this dream.