The Perfect Fairytale

Once upon a time in a land far, far away, there was once a very large thing that made most people scared to look at. It was not easy to know or even worth getting to know. It brought joy to the endless number of people who were willing to take the risk and at least acknowledge or get to know it minimally.

Somehow along the way the days it was able show itself to those who visited were never quite sure what to make of its various shapes, sizes or designs as it took on many forms. It was an array of many colors and textured fabrics. It could be whatever your heart desired it to be. Starting with the way it looked, or the way it felt to the touch.

It was created in the beginning as a simple basic object that was filled with wonder and awe. It would only allow those who did not run away from it, the opportunity to see how vivid and in depth it could share what it had to offer. No one knew where it was originally, yet it was complicated and more complex in its own abilities to hide from you what it was not ready to share or possibly never be willing or ready to share.

The idea of a million dreams. The concept of the mind being able to develop such a million variations of the things that help in making one's imaginary friends or even the other part of the monster in the closet or the one monster under the bed.

It was there whenever you needed it to be. It never let you lose faith in the ideas behind the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, or even Santa Claus. It brought joy to millions; it brought many emotions and feelings to the surface. It allowed one to discover the ways to become creative and to carry those from childhood, with the many times of made up and make believe. Into adulthood, it became part of the lesser-known thoughts and stresses that haunted us as we lived and worked through our lives only as we were led to believe was to be the way we become as adults.

It brought us hours of late-night readings from our most cherished books either handed down from one generation to the next, or the stories put into a box, collected by our parents and then passed onto our own children and grandchildren. It was very thing that turned whispers and rumors into legends, urban legends to be exact.

We laughed and cried at the thought we would one day no longer be as our former smaller version, then we would eventually grow up, and all was lost, until the memories of yesteryear crept from our minds into our present day and invade the moment, we thought about them.

We were not sure how to place the thoughts and memories into something easily understood as our minds were still developing into what was to become a full brain idea of the many things we had seen, had heard, had learned and had processed while we were awake and while we had slept. The ideas and creativity were to come along later on when we could make become what it was at the moment it was discovered.

The light bulb moment with a simple one minded thought that made us for a second a child again. We laughed at the thought. We cried at the moment. We clung onto the moment that hoped would never leave us wanting more, like it had left us suddenly.

Like temporary amnesia, it was really trying to stay around, to be a permanent part of our minds and in our lives. It braced for impact as it was flung outdoors, out of our minds, to only make room for more important things. "But what could be the harm in remembering something so innocent and so new to us back when it first visited us?" "How could us becoming grown up, becoming an adult only make us no longer remember the things that we saw through the eyes of a child, no longer be allowed to remain as a part of us as adults?"

This is a burning question that more so would allow us to cry out in despair because so much time had passed and we thought the memories were long since left alone on an island of thoughts and nostalgic dreams dashed against the rocks. We had allowed our own selves to be taught this was not a normal form of behavior. "Was it possible to resurface the dreams and ideas we had as a child, even as an adult?" "Were we doomed to live and act one way, while the childhood we knew and had loved was sitting in the file cabinet of our minds, never to be brought back again?"

If we tried to recapture or reinvent our childhood as an adult, we would be considered crazy or looney at best, if not something else worse. The friends we grew up with, were nothing more than the imagination of a child who had not reached the moment that their brains and skills of development and deduction, were still in the beginning stages. We lived to find and discover who we are and who we would one day become.

Maybe when we decided to grant our imagination the opportunity to be named, to give it all the features of what it could closely be described as, and it if it was nice, we would introduce them to our friends, the real ones.

As we got the courage up to do this, we needed to be sure they were prepared to meet and get to know the one or more individuals that we knew and not judge us if we considered them worthy of being a part of something big, especially when it comes to creativity.

The light bulbs started the journey of the ideas we made reality. The imaginary world was created to allow us to expand upon and broaden our horizons. The choices we made or would make were only rooted to become more than just an idea that grew into a dream of epic proportions and on a grand scale.

The possibilities are endless. The inner child wants to come outside to play and to be noticed once more.