A Revelation, of sorts.

In my dream, I tasted gold. Not in the sense of material wealth, fame, or power, but emotional fulfillment; a sense of belonging; a strong feeling of being alive. I felt my blood pumping, boldly through my veins, and I saw colors more vivid than anything I had seen in the past. In the wake of my awe and happiness I saw flowers bloom: carnations, daisies, azaleas, magnolias, and primroses, all reaching --with every life and being-- out towards me, soaking up the energy and the life beaming from me..

In reality, when I sit down to think my mind clears and I see images. A little girl in a thin, periwinkle dress stands by herself against a backdrop of deep, green grass. Her golden curls cascade down her shoulders, weaving in and out of ribbons bound by bows. She looks down at an object in her hand, her long golden lashes catch the sun's rays and look translucent, her skin a perfect shade of pink pearl. I try to make sense of why she's occupying my thoughts and mind space. I think; beauty, youth, innocence, life, family, house, noise, lawn, music, dance. As I tie words from the English language to this image in my head, she then breaks loose from her moment frozen in time, and begins to jump up and down, on a blanket of grass, holding an object in her cupped, delicate hands. She shrieks in excitement and hops toward me with a beaming smile, lighting up the darkest corners of the earth.

"What do you have there little Miss?" I say as I lean over her cupped hands in anticipation.

She's giggling, brimming with happiness and pride at her capture of nature. She feels, for a second, in complete control of the world and all of her surroundings, as if she carries a secret far greater than any adult on this earth. She bites down, softly, on her lips resembling an old women fighting against her conscience.

Her hands unfold to reveal a small Monarch butterfly resting against her skin. It gently flutters it's wings in content, knowing it will not be harmed in this young girl's presence. The white dots lining the wings cast a light upon the black, like distant stars in a clear, midnight sky. The autumn orange of the wing's body acting like a sun, giving the butterfly warmth and energy, and radiating an untouchable beauty to my eyes. With a gentle effort --too small for us to see-- the butterfly takes off and flutters into the daylight, climbing higher and higher.

An unguarded laugh escapes my mouth and I feel young again. I look down at my clear, glittered jelly sandals --the ones I wore to ruins as a kid-- and my faded, grass-stained denim jeans. My hands are small and fragile, caked with mud and dandelion stains. The little girl, in her periwinkle dress, extends her little hand before me. With an innocent smile, I take her hand and we skip together into the thickets behind.

"I know a place that serves the best mud pies!" She squeals, skipping.
"I know a place where the fairies nap!" I squeal, unevenly, skipping.

Ask me what I'm thinking and you'll receive a shrug.. In reality, I am exhausted in a way. I can barely account for actually living and experiencing life for myself, but in a way I am satisfied, for I see and experience all sorts of life and wonders in my head. I see families grow up strong; bridges being built over raging rivers; stars dancing together in the skies; a brother and a sister fighting for a watermelon slice; a unicorn slaying a lion with it's horn. I see everything, in my head. I live inside of there with them.

I'm sorry if I seem distant or boring. I'm sorry if I am awkward and shy. In my head, I am the queen of the world --the good kind that will fall to her knees to help someone dig a meaningless hole. I converse with king's men and knights as they strategically plan out their next invasion. Everything is adventurous and beautiful, daring and bold, dangerous and fantastical.

A part of me will never be happy in this life, because life does not mirror what I see inside of me. Is it so dangerous to lose yourself? I wonder...