tavie.com

There's a certain space I can't enter into in conscious reality, a fantasy space I can only find when I'm asleep and dreaming, except for when I'm reading certain books from my childhood. I've been digging around my room trying to find The Neverending Story and it's driving me crazy. I know we have it somewhere. I've never actually read it all the way through and I really want to give it a try right now for some reason. I can't think of a good subsititute that won't open a can of worms (e.g. any book in Lloyd Alexander's Prydain series would necessitate my reading all of the other books and we don't have a whole copy of The Book of Three. Ditto Narnia. Ditto Xanth. Ditto Oz.)

I can't find Five Children and It, either.

D'oh d'oh d'oh. I'm in this place where only a well-written children's fantasy novel will do and I simply can't decide on one.

If I could sleep it would be fine. I found that space the other night in, of all things, a dream where my sister and Matt and I were swimming in a lake. I could see underwater. I can't do that in real life.

Where the hell is that damn book? I'm in the mood to clap for Tinkerbell. I need a semi-active part in the adventure. Kee-rap.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:37 AM | shower me with attention