She smiled at the thoughts of her ponies, who imagined her appearance in their dreams was the result of some kind of hidden fear of her, or that she had the power to literally get into their heads. While the former may be true in some ponies’ cases, the latter most certainly was not. Weaving through the plane of dreams had its own dangers and pitfalls. It was more negotiation and exploration than it was dominance. None could truly master such a realm, caught as it was between that place where the mind waltzed with what lay beyond reality, so alien yet so natural, that bed of wonder upon which the world lay, comforted of its endless troubles.