Midnight Palace
Vendor
- Messages
- 640
- Location
- Hollywood, CA
My earliest years as a child were spent wandering through an intricate tunnel of scenarios. Growing up in Philadelphia, you had a limited amount of results at your disposal. You either adopted the tradition of family business or you worried about making it out of a city notorious for locking you inside. My family had no business to maintain, and as far as I was concerned, I was already miles away.
My illusionary journeys were many, and often. My bedroom window faced a large field that belonged to a church. On the opposite side of the field stood a retirement home, the crown jewel of a section we called “the new homes”. These homes got their name for having been built years after the rest of the neighborhood, and remained in better shape. Serving as the backdrop to the new homes, was a bridge portion of Interstate 95. During the late night hours, the bridge’s lights transformed it into something completely different. I suspect I was the only one who noticed. As I sat up on my bed and stared through the window at the bridge, it took on the appearance of a huge luxury liner. I could almost hear the conversations of the passengers, and the clanging of champagne glasses as their voices filled the clear evening sky. Knowing that school waited for me in a few short hours, I wanted nothing more than to break free across the field and join the festivities. As a passenger, I felt that I wouldn’t be restricted by the falling of night. There were no time limitations for activity. I could live in this party of individuals who shunned the idea of mundane existence. I didn’t know exactly how I would get aboard the ship, but I believed that I could, and that alone was worth the effort.
When the inevitability of the next morning arrived, the fantasy of escaping into the previous night was still fresh. I found myself anxiously waiting for the evenings, where I could travel as far as my imagination would take me. I never physically left my bedroom, but in my own private world, there were no doors or windows. There were only the immeasurable possibilities. The amazing part was that on the other side of my bedroom door remained the polar opposite. The hallway spilled into the main staircase that lead down into the living room and then outside. Logically, I could have taken that route to break out of the house towards the ship. However, part of the mystique would be to secretly navigate a path that only I was aware of.
Most people waited to fall asleep and dream. I found a flaw in this process, in that I had no input as to what pictures were painted while unconscious. I decided that I would have a wider range of options by remaining lucid. The ship was the most common of these mind vacations, however. As I got a bit older, I no longer had the urge to sail. Instead, I found myself delving into thoughts that seemed nonexistent to the rest of the world. It could have been that my realities were much too vivid for standard human recognition. It could have also been that I simply didn’t allow worldly opinions to interfere. Whatever the case was, I never let go of my own universe. I let my mind run without trying to catch it. In retrospect, I’ve determined that I succeeded in completely erasing the division line between fantasy and reality. There no longer was a difference. What others would perceive as fantastic, I held as my personal truth and continue to do so. Looking back at those younger years, I’m certain they were the strongest blocks of the foundation I’m currently standing on.
"The fact that an opinion has been widely held is no evidence whatever that it is not utterly absurd; indeed in view of the silliness of the majority of mankind, a widespread belief is more likely to be foolish than sensible." - Bertrand Russell
My illusionary journeys were many, and often. My bedroom window faced a large field that belonged to a church. On the opposite side of the field stood a retirement home, the crown jewel of a section we called “the new homes”. These homes got their name for having been built years after the rest of the neighborhood, and remained in better shape. Serving as the backdrop to the new homes, was a bridge portion of Interstate 95. During the late night hours, the bridge’s lights transformed it into something completely different. I suspect I was the only one who noticed. As I sat up on my bed and stared through the window at the bridge, it took on the appearance of a huge luxury liner. I could almost hear the conversations of the passengers, and the clanging of champagne glasses as their voices filled the clear evening sky. Knowing that school waited for me in a few short hours, I wanted nothing more than to break free across the field and join the festivities. As a passenger, I felt that I wouldn’t be restricted by the falling of night. There were no time limitations for activity. I could live in this party of individuals who shunned the idea of mundane existence. I didn’t know exactly how I would get aboard the ship, but I believed that I could, and that alone was worth the effort.
When the inevitability of the next morning arrived, the fantasy of escaping into the previous night was still fresh. I found myself anxiously waiting for the evenings, where I could travel as far as my imagination would take me. I never physically left my bedroom, but in my own private world, there were no doors or windows. There were only the immeasurable possibilities. The amazing part was that on the other side of my bedroom door remained the polar opposite. The hallway spilled into the main staircase that lead down into the living room and then outside. Logically, I could have taken that route to break out of the house towards the ship. However, part of the mystique would be to secretly navigate a path that only I was aware of.
Most people waited to fall asleep and dream. I found a flaw in this process, in that I had no input as to what pictures were painted while unconscious. I decided that I would have a wider range of options by remaining lucid. The ship was the most common of these mind vacations, however. As I got a bit older, I no longer had the urge to sail. Instead, I found myself delving into thoughts that seemed nonexistent to the rest of the world. It could have been that my realities were much too vivid for standard human recognition. It could have also been that I simply didn’t allow worldly opinions to interfere. Whatever the case was, I never let go of my own universe. I let my mind run without trying to catch it. In retrospect, I’ve determined that I succeeded in completely erasing the division line between fantasy and reality. There no longer was a difference. What others would perceive as fantastic, I held as my personal truth and continue to do so. Looking back at those younger years, I’m certain they were the strongest blocks of the foundation I’m currently standing on.
"The fact that an opinion has been widely held is no evidence whatever that it is not utterly absurd; indeed in view of the silliness of the majority of mankind, a widespread belief is more likely to be foolish than sensible." - Bertrand Russell
