Sunday, May 27, 2007

As I write this, I am viewing a most remarkable display of nature outside my window. The trees are green - but a verdant, deep shade of green that puts me in mind of proper enchanted forests with streams and treefolk and fairies and twilight. It reminds me fairytale grottoes with waterfalls and pools, not a single bug in sight of course.

And the sky! The most absolute shade of blue and grey, melded into the colour that dreams are made off. I no longer see any edges to the clouds, but rather a complete blanket of the most beautiful dark blue. I will call it dream blue.

It is at times like this where I wish I could escape. Somewhere, somehow, there is a path that leads off into the forest. There are only cute critters, such as rabbits and cats. The forest is dark and cool at night, and shafts of sunlight shine on moss covered stone during the day.

Is it really so bad to dream? Is childishness such a negative trait?

Poor, ignorant observer, I forgive you. My paradise is something to aspire to, something to think about. It is not real, but it is real enough.

I still am afraid of the dark, there are sounds unknown and monsters hidden under my bed. But I think it shows I still have my childlike imagination.

Have you lost yours?