Can you imagine not being able to imagine? I believe in imagination, an opportunity to close my eyes, to see for the first time, a world trapped behind the inside of my eyelids. For one moment I lose control, and sometimes losing control can feel so good. I can sit in the courtroom with Atticus Finch, hang by the river with Lenny and George, drink myself away with Holden, and cast a spell with Harry Potter, all in a moment. I see the flipped view of my mind, a view only seen when I take my brain and twist it inside out to get a better look. Without imagination there would be no fairy tales, no witches to fly on brooms through the dark starry night, no pirates to seek gold or immortality, no chance to stretch the mind, and no opportunity to take a break from the analytical world and plummet into the invisible one. In my imagination, you can soar through the sky and land among the stars.
Everyday I want to escape this world. I yearn to smell the orange red sunset over the brisk sea rippling in the fluorescent sun, to feel the rugged sharp glassy top of the highest snow covered mountain, or to dive deep down into the heavy waters of the sapphire glistening water mirroring the blue sky. And the clouds are perfect, just like a watercolor picture, with a few smudges to make them look real. How many people can dream in far far away, when life is getting in their way?
When I go running around the neighborhood, I see the painted houses pass me by, and the hard concrete compressed at every step I take. It becomes smooth sand enveloping each toe. The sky is uninterrupted from a white barrier, a baby blue pool. The yellow sun shines on everything and the wall of the foamy water sticks to the sand as the waves crash along the shore. I can smell the ocean breeze and hear the seagulls, as if a shell were forced at my ear and the ocean engulfs me. As I break the surface, my fins become feet and I finish my run in serenity. I have gotten my taste of the endless shore.
I strive to imagine but fail to see the empty book waiting to be filled, enfolded with a harsh reality. If I imagine enough I may mix up reality with the unseen and make something happen. Who knows? But if I want something in life, I know to start in the attic and then make my way down the stairs. Imagination creates life, which creates imagination. To dream of something that is unreachable, makes it seem reachable. This I believe.
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