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Sweet Dreams	By : GeorgeGlass Category: +M through R > Phineas and Ferb Views: 20189 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own PHINEAS AND FERB or its characters. I received no financial compensation for writing this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 2
Suddenly, the whole world changed. Phinidar watched Isaba's uniform morph into a simple, belted pink dress, just as Isabellion saw the Phinotaur shrink down into a red-haired, triangle-faced boy. They were still at eye level, though, as her unicorn seemed to have melted away beneath her.
"Phineas?" she said.
"Isabella?" Still holding her hand, he stepped closer. "It's really you, isn't it? I'm not just dreaming you; you're actually here. I can feel it somehow."
"How can that be?" Isabella asked. "How can we be sharing the same dream?"
"I don't know," said Phineas, "but we are. Look." He gestured at their surroundings.
They were no longer in the tight corridors of a starship or among the trees of an ancient forest; instead, their new environment incorporated elements of both. Trees and flowers grew all around them, but high overhead was a glass dome with nothing beyond but black sky and bright stars. The troopers, robots, nymphs, and satyrs were all gone, though, leaving Phineas and Isabella alone in their space-borne arboretum.
"Wow," Isabella murmured.
"Yeah," agreed Phineas.
"I still don't get how this is possible," said Isabella.
"Who knows?" said Phineas. "Maybe something in the atmosphere is boosting our brain waves, so other people's brains can pick them up."
"But then wouldn't the signals be stronger from people who are closer? I mean, you and Ferb share a room; why aren't you in HIS dream?"
"Maybe it's because I was already dreaming about you. I mean, I do that all the time."
Isabella's face fell.
"Then you're not the real Phineas," she said, eyes downcast. "I don't think he dreams about me much at all."
"Sure I do!" Phineas exclaimed. "I dream about you all the time. I just don't remember it when I wake up."
"Why not?"
"I'm not sure. It's too bad, though, because most of them are really nice dreams."
Isabella looked skeptical. "Really? What happens in those dreams?"
Phineas' face reddened. "Well..."
"Whoa," said Isabella. "You NEVER blush in my dreams. You're always confident and unflappable. Plus you're usually dressed like a sea captain. Or an astronaut. Or a Chippendales dan-uh, furniture maker."
"Wow. And people say I'M imaginative."
"My point here," said Isabella, trying to wrestle the conversation back onto its intended course, "is that you MUST be the real you, because you're acting like the real you."
"I FEEL like the real me."
“Well, I guess if we’re going to be sure…” Isabella said, then, boldly, grabbed Phineas in a big hug.
“Mmm,” she sighed, eyes squeezed shut. “You DO feel like the real you.”
***
“Vanessa?”
“Ferb?”
Vanessa looked down at herself and saw that she was now wearing the all-black ensemble she typically sported in waking life. Then she looked at Ferb and squinted. It was definitely him; his green hair, big nose, and mismatched eyes were unmistakable, and he was wearing his usual light-yellow shirt and purple pants. But the pants now came up to his hips instead of his chest, because he was taller…and older.
“You’re really here, in my dream, aren’t you?” she said. Ferb nodded.
It didn’t come as too big a shock. Life with her father had exposed Vanessa to more than her share of strange things.
“Why do you look like a teenager?”
Ferb tapped his temple with his index finger.
“I get it,” Vanessa said. “This is how old you are in your head.”
Ferb nodded again, and Vanessa took a step closer.
“It’s because there’s a lot going on in there, isn’t it?”
Ferb blinked.
“You know, I’ve been wanting to get to know you better,” she said, eliciting a smile from Ferb. “But that’s going to be hard if you don’t talk.”
Gently, Ferb took hold of the first two fingers of Vanessa’s right hand. He lifted them up and touched them to his forehead, and suddenly, Vanessa’s mind flooded with images.
—a boy of about five, sitting snugly in the lap of a green-haired woman with oddly sized eyes as she read to him from A Brief History of Time, which he found SO much more interesting than Winnie the Pooh;
—the same boy, in pajamas, up an hour past his bedtime, hiding at the top of the stairs as he listened to a rain-slickered policewoman tell his father that his mother had died in a car crash;
—the boy, his head full of doubt and uncertainty, holding a stuffed Apatosaurus in one hand and his father’s hand in the other as they boarded a plane to an unknown city in America;
—a red-haired woman, welcoming the boy into her arms the moment she laid eyes on him;
—a big sister with the temperament of a lioness with a bad rash, shouting at him—and then chasing off the three older boys who were teasing him for his accent;
—a red-haired boy saying, “I know what we’re going to do today!”—somehow knowing that it was exactly what Ferb wanted to do, too.
And then the floodgates REALLY opened: a giant rollercoaster, an animal translator, an elevator to the moon, a massive car wash—it went on and on, a flood of ideas and plans and tools and the sheer joy of MAKING things, especially with his brother and his favorite platypus.
“Whoa!” Vanessa said, withdrawing her fingers from Ferb’s forehead. “Holy…I can’t believe…Did you really DO all that?”
Ferb nodded. Then he held up one finger.
“One more thing, huh? Okay,” Vanessa said. She put her two fingers back on Ferb’s forehead.
She saw her own face, somewhere familiar: the blueprint store where she had picked up the plans for her father’s Space Laser-Inator. And then the background exploded into flowers and sunlight, surrounding her face like a halo. She saw herself turn around, hair flowing, lips full, eyes alight. A vision of perfect beauty.
Vanessa took her fingers away. “Wow. Is that how you see me?”
He nodded.
She only hesitated for a moment. “Then you should know how I see you. Well, not see, exactly.”
Vanessa wrapped her slender fingers around two of Ferb’s and placed them on her own forehead. He saw only darkness, but from that darkness came…music. It started slow, a single bass guitar playing a solid, mysterious baseline. Then an electric guitar joined in, adding strength, speed, complexity, counterpointing the base, as if the instruments were the voices of two hemispheres of an agile brain. Drums kicked in, providing a skeleton, a heartbeat. And then horns, keyboards, violins, every manner of instrument added themselves in a growing wave of musical power and nuance, building and building to a mighty, complicated, dazzling climax.
Vanessa lowered her hand, Ferb’s two fingers still in it.
“That’s how I see you,” she said. “Brilliant, and complicated. Not a kid…someone I can relate to…respect…someone I could even…”
Whatever she was going to say next was forgotten as Ferb’s lips pressed against hers.
END CHAPTER 2
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Sweet Dreams