When I first wrote DreamRovers, the opening scene was from the point of view of 5-year-old Tapio. The story then switched to the point of view characters who narrate the rest of the novel. Some of this opening scene was still used, from a different point of view, but I thought I'd share the original idea here.
DreamRovers Chapter 1:
While his mother slept, Tapio leapt across mountaintops. If the dream lady came again tonight, he had to prove he was a rover just like she was. He landed with catlike grace, then jumped again, soaring over valleys where animals lurked—mountain sheep, griffins, a herd of elk. He paused only long enough to see that the dream lady was not hiding among them before making the next jump. Again and again he leapt, until the mountains stopped and he could go no further.
The world beyond the mountains was hidden in swirling mist. The dreamscape. That's what the dream lady called it. He could wake up right now—but she was out there somewhere, and wouldn't she be proud if he found her on his own? Images appeared in the mist, visible for a moment and disappearing again. He focused on a turreted castle and stepped forward.
Indigo mist filled the world. He couldn’t feel anything, but he still saw the castle. Tapio clawed his way through. At last he drifted to the floor of a stone balcony.
He wasn't alone. An old man sat on a cushioned throne, petting a bird—no, a griffin—beside him. His bushy eyebrows went up. “Smallest nit I've seen yet,” he said.
Tapio came up to the man’s shoulder, but only because he was sitting down. He tried to imagine himself taller. It didn't work.
The griffin jumped at him. Its pointed beak dug into his shoulder, and though he felt nothing he screamed at the fear of it. Wake up, he thought. Wake up now. But nothing happened.
“You're some hero, picking on a child.”
The dream lady!
Tapio pushed the griffin aside and stood up. There she was, tall and strong, her hair and skirts flowing without wind. Her back was toward him, facing the strange man, protecting him. Tapio relaxed. He was safe now.
“Nits make lice. Easier to squash them when they're small,” the man said.
“Your seat is made of honey.”
The man suddenly sank through his throne-like chair. He struggled to get up but the sticky substance clung to him, holding him down. “Cursed dreamrover!” he snarled.
“And your griffin likes honey.”
The beast raised its head.
“He won't attack me. He's mine!”
“Of course he won't. But I bet it's not too comfortable getting the honey nipped off you by that beak.”
The man gave a terrified yelp as the griffin bounded at him. The dream lady turned her back on him and looked at Tapio. “Rule number one for influencing dreams: make it strange. Dreamers' minds can't resist playing with a strange new idea, even if it's unpleasant. Especially if it's unpleasant.”
“Is this a dream?” Tapio interrupted.
The dream lady paused. “Ah, I was explaining too much for you. Yes, this is a dream. His dream.” She pointed at the man.
“Why can't I wake up?”
She smiled. “You can wake up from your own dreams, huh? That's pretty good for someone so young. You can't do that here because this isn't your own dream. You'll have to wait until your body wakes up on its own, or rove back into your own dream first.”
“I want to rove back.” He looked out across the balcony but saw nothing but swirling mist.
“Have you ever roved through dreams before?” She didn't wait for an answer. “I guess you wouldn't know if you had, would you? All right, come on.” She took his arm, and then stepped off of the balcony. They were falling, falling through the blue mist, and Tapio could see nothing, not the castle or the mountains he'd been jumping on, not the strange man or the dream lady either.
Then his eyes popped open, and he could feel his thick woolen blanket, the hard floor under his body. He heard the bustle from the street outside his window and smelled the breakfast Mother was making. Somehow he'd woken up after all. He started to get up, then fell back.
The dream lady was sitting cross-legged on his floor.
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