It happened as I was walking past a booth, those ones selling cotton candy. You don’t see those around much anymore. Maybe that’s why it hit me like that – a light, a flash, quick in the darkness, like a bolt of lightning that suddenly illuminates a familiar scene made black by night. The layers peel away, black gauze curtains dropping to reveal a forgotten stage.
Those dreams I had so long ago when I was still a little boy in trousers with scraped knees; the colours so vivid and everything so real that I could still feel myself there after I awoke. Those dream-rich creatures: speaking animals, magic makers, all there to share my world.
This suit of mine, the costume I don as I navigate the shadow world of my every day. The bleating of my alarm, the runny egg breakfast, the morning paper and the fly’s buzz, buzz incessant in my ears. Is there a place there still for me? An empty table set with saucers and plates? A loyal dream menagerie frozen in still life? A place for me to leave my drab shadow self behind?
What happened then to those that I forgot when my colours turned to grey and the music faded from my ears; the magic faded from my heart?
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