Anatomy of a Whisper

I dreamt I was tracing the lines on an ancient map, a world contained within a single leaf. The veins were infinite, parallel roads of chartreuse light, all converging on a great central highway that split the world in two. It was a silent, verdant landscape, pulsing with a life I could feel but not see. Then, beyond the translucent edge of my world, a soft nebula bloomed. A single, pink blossom unfurled from its delicate stem, a distant star of impossible color against the pale, endless blush of the morning sky, whispering a secret I would forget upon waking.