Adventurous Subconscious

I sit, the dim theater lights, casting faint shadows upon the walls around me, snatching my attention away from the rhythm and rhyme. My mind races. My heart pumping. I felt my own crave of creation beginning to take off at the speed of light.



I longed for a keyboard, a simple note pad, or even just a pen to jot down my feelings on my own flesh, my story, and my soul. My mind soared over the Rockies’ and descended into the infinite depths of the Pacific Ocean. My soul had left the auditorium, but my physical being remained. I bid bon voyage to the world on April 12, 1912 and set sail on the maiden voyage of a doomed, English Ocean liner. I marched in the ranks with Bonaparte at Waterloo.



My subconscious opened doors to other worlds; lands of distant adventures each more real than the next. I walked the lands where dinosaur’s roamed free; savage headhunters thrived in thier Amazonian jungles. Wizards conjure their magical incantations from atop their lofty towers, and knights ride upon their valiant steeds in search of adventure.



No matter how I tried to concentrate on my surroundings, I was lost in my subconscious, a world of magic swirling around me. My imagination ran wild, uncontrolled and untamed. I could almost invision the young squire, abandoned at birth, drawing his fallen master’s sword and charge the enemy ramparts. The innocent maiden, captured and hidden away by a vicious dragon, in some unknown tower. The feel of the hot flames as they scorched the earth. The squire, now a hero, a knight; facing the epic beast, with spear and shield in hand defeating the brute. Its broken body lying on the field of battle, a testament for all to see. The knight climbs the tower and claims the maiden as his bride, but she is a princess. He strolls into the town, the princess astride his steed, the people cheering their returning hero. He is crowned king, but suddenly the story vanishes and I am pulled back to reality.



A world without magic and true love’s kiss. A world full of evil wizards and vicious dragons, but there are no knights to liberate the people. The people call out in the darkness for a savior, but they find none. If only they would look inside themselves; for inside all, beats the heart of a true hero, but it is forgotten. The imagination is slain in favor of reality, but there are few that live on, live on in the shadows.