Princess Aurora

​The blaring of my phone's alarm was replaced by the cooing of doves. I blinked, finding myself no longer in my bedroom, but in a sun-drenched clearing in a forest. I was still wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and the ornate antique mirror I found yesterday at a gypsy flea market lay beside me. ​A woman stood staring, her eyes wide with surprise. "Who are you?" one asked, her voice cautious. ​She reached out to touch the fabric of my shirt. "What sort of clothing is that?" she murmured, full of wonder. ​I stammered, unable to explain. A moment of silence passed as we exchanged a confused look.