I want to think like a child again.
When I lay down to go to sleep, I want to once again resurrect Thor from the recesses of my imagination; Thor, my beautiful, mythical Pegasus that would grace me with his majestic presence, caress my face with his soft mane, and call me by name as I drifted off to sleep. You see, gentle reader, Thor was my Pegasus. His allegiance belonged to me and to me alone. I knew, absolutely, that when I closed my eyes after slipping into bed, while my toes were squirming against the cold, icy sheets trying to find some sense of equilibrium, that it wouldn’t be long until Thor trotted in. There was no Pegasus like him. He was snow white in color, except his mane which was a stylish purple; yes, my Thor had panache! Thor also was graced with an ivory horn on his forehead, like a unicorn would have. I would often reach up, without even looking, and caress the smooth horn with my fingers. I loved the sensation of his warm breath against my neck as he nuzzled close to offer his affection, affection that he only gave to me. Occasionally, perhaps due to a nervous tick or an itch, I could hear his wings give a sudden, unexpected shutter as if he was getting ready to lift himself away. He never did, though. He was faithful to keep me company until I drifted away. And, once I did float away into the heavens, I would find myself mounted on his back, with my arms embraced around his long, muscular neck, being transported to places and spaces that only existed in dreams. The juxtaposition of his whiteness against the clear blue skies sent shivers down my spine; there was nothing more beautiful. At times, he would descend and take me into hidden meadows, clearings, or valleys that were graced by pristine bodies of water where we would drink and be refreshed. The water, however, was not like the water you know. The water that Thor brought me to tasted like sweet Kool-Aid with a honey-like aftertaste, so the more and more I drank my thirst never seemed to become quenched by the sweet nectar. It didn’t matter. I was something special. I was the only one that knew about these places. I was the only one he trusted. My secrets I readily whispered into his ears; he was my confidant. But then, all of a sudden, after years it seemed, I would suddenly raise my head into the blue sky, which was graced by scores of billowy white clouds, and hear an awkward echo. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. And, before I knew it, mom was rapping at my door waking me up for school. I would bring my hands to my nose and smell Thor’s sweet scent before opening the door. I would twirl my tongue around my lips, greedily savoring what was left of the honey water that I had been drunk on earlier. I had been on an adventure, an adventure and experience that no novel or short story would ever be able to encapsulate. I could have cried because of the interruption, but I did not despair because I always knew he would return later in the night and carry me to some new, distant world of escape.
I recently read the blog of an extremely talented girl who explained a need to become internally reborn as a child. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to recapture that innocence, to allow your childlike imagination to wash away the grime, nastiness, and ugliness that adulthood brings along as excess baggage. So, tonight, as I go to sleep, I’ve decided to go on a trip. I have a date with a Pegasus.
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