Drag on, Day...

I don’t remember if dragons are real or not.

I remember being introduced to the unicorn as a small child. It was fascinating, because it could fly. I’ve always wanted to fly, but I never knew a horse could.

I remember imagining myself flying on a unicorn, following a rainbow. At the time, I didn’t think rainbows were real.

I met my first mermaid in a dream. It was the first dream of many I had of the ocean waves swallowing me. In this particular dream, I was an adolescent. I was just about to lose my breath (in real life, too, I think), when the mermaid came floating to me. Even in my state, I remember her hair was beautiful. She floated toward me as I lost consciousness. I later awoke on the shore, and then in my bed. I knew mermaids were not real. I knew because I never saw one whose hair was not covering her breasts.

Penguins are definitely real.

A centaur is a mythical creature, that meant nothing to me until I was in my twenties. Until my imagination became lucid enough to study the magic within my fantasies. At this point, I fell in love with a centaur. I wrote about him in a short story. He carried me along a riverbank, lowered me beyond the bushel, and kissed my head before trotting off. His body was strong and wondrous, like I’d imagine a true fantasy to entail. He was gorgeous.

I don’t remember if dragons are real or not. Or if they were. Don’t they fly within the mists of the most beautiful lakes in the older parts of our Earth? Aren’t they pleasant to be around, and don’t they save us from our fears?