The World through the Magic lens

            I don’t know how everyone else sees the world, but I don’t think many people see it the way I do, the way I used to. I see things with vibrant colors, a person’s personality shines brightly from their eyes and some even have an aura around them that is as wondrous as fireworks or stars. Every tree has hidden secrets, the more unique in shape or size something is the more life I see in it. Once I saw large tree standing taller than all the other trees in the forest and my mind came alive, I saw the tree built into a giant tree house, then suddenly wooden planks and pathways spread out to the other trees and soon there was a whole town built up into the treetops. Or I might see it as a mystical tree, the guardian of the forest, a great elder tree with a face that is connected to everything in the forest and protects it from harm.

            I see something with my eyes and my mind puts a layer of imagination, possibility and emotions over that image. When a person genuinely smiles, when they experience a moment that catches them off guard and makes them feel that happiness, if I see that moment I am filled with my own happiness and so my emotions mix with the moment. I see a person smile and my mind shows me the light of the human soul. Even if its just for a brief moment and even if the light is dim, I see and experience something real for that second.

            I don’t think other people see the world like this, because if they did then smiles, rain, sunshine, trees and coffee and little things like that would be valued so much more than celebrity gossip, sex or money. I have nothing against sex and money but if offered the chance to either have infinite days of sex and money or infinite days of tranquil rain, tall trees, coffee, peace and stories, I think I would choose the latter.

            I see the colors of a person’s personality, I see the light of a soul, the possibilities of a large tree the bliss of the falling rain, except for when I don’t. I live off of imagination and creativity and it makes me whole. The day I do not see the rain as magical is the day I do not want to live anymore.

            My problem is pain, I have said it once and I will say it again. I am so familiar and intimate with the experience of pain that we should probably get married less we get struck down for living in sin. When my intestines aren’t being twisted like a pretzel then I have back pain, and if not back pain then joint pain. There is always pain. I can’t speak for the whole human race but I can say most Americans don’t live with the level of pain that I live with and certainly not at such a young age. When I talk about pain I am not complaining about a headache or a tummy ache, I am talking about the feeling of glass grinding in my bones and a knife twisting in my guts. The kind of pain that makes you not want to be alive or get out of bed. Luckily not every day is like that and I get to enjoy my coffee and rain and be content. The is also the double edge sword of pain medicine.

            Pain meds are these magical pills that wash over you and wipe away the pain, they make you feel good and the world seems right. That feeling does not last, but the numbness does. The pills numb the brain so you don’t feel the pain, but it also makes it hard to feel everything else. Taking my pain meds makes me loose my filter, my magical lens that I get to see the world in. Without the pills my pain slows me down and sometimes I lose whole days of my life to the pain, but without taking meds I can see the world in a more magical way. I get to see the world through my own imagination lens. Everything in the world seems more wondrous and the good start to outweigh the bad. Sure I am in pain but look how beautiful the sky looks after it rains! Its like the heavens opened up and you can see a glimpse of the afterlife.

            When I take the pills it keeps the pain at bay, the rabid dog that is pain gets put on a leash and told to behave. The rabid dog is still there but its calmed now. Then I start to see the world as I suspect others see it. A tree is a tree, rain is water that falls from the sky, it makes traffic more dangerous, coffee is only for waking up in the morning and when people smile its their happiness, not mine.

            I am always the same person but without the magical lens the world seems like a darker place. I am a better version of myself whenever I can manage to go a few days without my medication.

            Sometimes it rains while I am on my pain meds and I look outside and see only rain, I don’t feel the serenity or the calm that rain brings. I look outside and I remember how much joy rain used to bring me and I know there is a magical world of peace and tranquility right outside my window at that moment, but it is slightly out of reach and I just can’t see it yet.

            When it rains I see water fall from the sky, but one day the rain will take me back to that magical place. The place were water, wind and fog swirl through the air and the cool breeze refreshes the spirit, a place where anything could be waiting over the horizon. The best stories start on a dark and stormy night and the best adventures happen on a cool foggy afternoon.

Where do your Dreams go?

            Where do your dreams go when you die?

I have never been one to fear death. I’ve led a life of hardships and pain, both physical and emotional. My life has not been all bad but my worst experiences could be written and sold as horror stories. When nightmares consume your childhood what is so fearsome about death? Nothing. Death scares the young and the healthy. People have their reasons why they want to live but the real reason is primitive survival. The human brain in all of its complexity still operates from basic desires. A human wants to live so that it can reproduce and make more humans. All species need this urge to survive. Growing up sick and in pain alters your brain. Its natures way of saying “You wont reproduce so death is ok. You are allowed to die” This might sound cruel but anyone who has seen a nature documentary will know its true. Nature effects humans just the same as it effects animals.

            I am now afraid to die and strive to live. One day I found a light in the darkness. It was a boundless imagination that led me to my love of fantasy. I played in the fictional worlds of others. Humans created video games and books, they used their brains for something more than basic desires. They created these worlds and I was lost and entranced. In these worlds the hero won, the darkness could be fought and if you believe hard enough nothing can stop you. Memories of life funneled through creative process and turned into dreams. The Dreams written down and turned into fiction and the fiction sold and consumed. Once consumed the fiction is released back into dreams and stimulates the mind. The mind then begins to create its own dreams and its own fiction. What if that tree was sixty feet tall and contained an entire village of elves? Its not sixty feet tall and only birds live in it, but what if? What if the world was a better and more magical place? What if people got along? What if trying your best actually made a difference? The thoughts in your brain turn and focus. Your experiences color both your fantasy and reality. How you perceive people depends on how you were raised just like if I told you to imagine a drugtor you might think of something totally different than someone else. Others may just realize Drugtor is a word I just made up and not bother imagining anything.

            So where DO dreams go when you die? And why does my ability to imagine a dragtor make me want to live?

            Well I honestly do not know where dreams go and that is why I fear death. In my head I have my memories, story ideas, characters, dreams, goals and a whole library of random animal trivia. Its precious to me, I can recall times that I spent with my friends or family, moments long since passed that my brain keeps preserved for as long as I live. Happy moments and memories that make me smile to this day. I can create fictional worlds and characters in a day, I can imagine those places and if I close my eyes I can see every single place I have ever written about. I fear death because when a person dies, what happens to those precious memories and all of the stories they haven’t written yet? My fear is that they simply go away forever.

            Great authors through the ages wrote stories that are still read and enjoyed hundreds of years later, but what happened to the stories they didn’t write? All of the possible life they could have breathed into the world is now gone. All that remains is their stories, echoes of a mind that could create anything out of nothing.

            I do not fear not existing, not breeding, not being able to eat hamburgers, I fear not being able to tell stories.

            So what if I had to answer to my own question? What if I just wrote a happy ending? What if?

            When you die your dreams live on with you. The stories you wrote continue to entertain the living but all of the worlds you create in your head, the characters that are all secretly part of your own personality, your dreams, your wishes and all of the memories you hold so dear from your life, they go with you. They all travel with you to the next world.  a world of peace and happiness and a world where the heroes won, the darkness could be fought and if you believe hard enough nothing can stop you.