Still, I have often contemplated on having missed out on several years of my life. Years I could’ve learned what all the others did, years I could’ve understood them and the world better. Instead of being alone in my room, I could’ve been in the company of good friends, doing something we all liked doing together. And in the presence of these good friends, I could’ve grown more as a human being.

But no. Since humans were so clearly different from what I knew in myself, I didn’t want to be like them. I wanted to be other things. Like a dragon, or a unicorn. That was what I dreamed of growing up and becoming: a being of integrity, purity, and great ideals. Something I could not see in humans.

A misplaced child, hidden from the variety that is human nature. With my dragons and my dreams, I survived — no, I flourished. Imagination was my realm, seperate from reality.

As time passed, the very ideals I believed in made me certain that I shouldn’t keep on believing most in what is removed from the world. They also made me believe that the world of humans can contain things that might challenge even my love for this pure imagination. So a transition began.

Things have since changed. I have faced challenges, and hinders. Delving into the uncertainty of life can taint you, mislead you, and it can even kill you. Sometimes you want to give up, and believe that what you thought to be true, really wasn’t.

There are many ways to imagine the world. Cynicism is the lousiest of them all.

Now, I take a minute to look back. Where was I heading before, where am I heading now, and what is really the wisest? Some time ago, I wanted to become a dragon. Lately, I have tried becoming more human.

Do the two really conflict?

I used to think humans were limited and weak. Now, I have come to see what potential really lies in us. All we can see and feel is a part of us. If we feel great things, then great things can be in our life.

The way I see it, I have three choices. Either I can live with the happiness of imagination and the anguish of its lack in the physical world; or I can forget and suppress the imagination and try and see the physical world as more bright; or… I can see the imagination as my palette and the physical world as my canvas, transporting the inspiration of imagination, and letting magic into the mundane realm.

That is my dream. That, and the ability to fly, of course.

Vast forests had spilled into sight as soon as he had taken flight. He could see no end to this dark green. Only occasionally broken by light green clearings and orange-brown cliffsides, the forest seemed very dense. He could also spot a river, cleaving its own way through the landscape. A good distance below him, he could see it run close to a cliffside. He had, in fact, come into this world flying along the very same cliffside. He decided to seek out its top, so he peeked up so far he almost flipped over.

It was a cliffside like no other, that’s for sure. It had some sort of huge spikes coming out of it. Not to mention that the wall was a very unexpected twist in the landscape. And the rock was odd. Then there was all the green. Why was there green on a cliffside?

“But of course! It’s a giant tree!”

Dropping the bag, he slowed his pace so that he could take it all in. Leaves were dropping all around, some caught in the wind, some whisping across the ground. Looking up at the sky, he could see them swirl, adding an element of life to the treetops and the clouds, in a succession of beautiful moments. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he focused on the sounds instead. He could hear where the leaves rustled and where they fell. In his mind it was as if he had never closed his eyes at all.

And just like that, the connection was made. Throughout his whole body, he could sense it. He could not explain it, but there was no doubt as to what it was. All that remained, was to move out of this position. He started by shaking his arm. It felt both natural and not at the same time, and nothing like he expected. It was more like hitting a branch and sense it sway. The movement belonged to the thought, but not so much to the body.

Of course not. His body had nothing to do with it. The thought flowed through his consciousness along with a suggestive notion; why, then, would the body that is not present, set the limits for what he could do?

Whispering his farewell, he flew into another world.

A little valley, a sink in the landscape. A tree on a tiny hill. Nature around me, teeming. A clucking stream bending around the hill.

I lift my arms, take it all in. Hanging from a branch in the tree. Effortlessly. Nature is coming. Animals approach. A deer, many birds.

A fox. I understand. I follow her.

The stream is bigger here. A waterfall. She jumps over, I follow. It’s ridiculously easy.

Up a hill, leading to another waterfall above. I practically float up the hill. There is an opening behind the waterfall. We go in.

There is light behind the water. It opens into another valley, more beautiful than the previous one. I see a crooked tree on the top of a hill that’s arranged in great steps.

She speaks. “Follow my lead.” Now we’re in the grass on a hill close by. “Break free of bonds… of limitations.”

We lay down in the grass. She curls up by my left hand. Friendship. Presence. Calm. Then she crawls up to my neck and curls up there. Intimacy. Support. Empathy. At last, the settles down atop my heart. Understanding. Protection. Attachment.

“Of course I know.” She accepts me and guards me. She is, after all, a part of me.

For a short while, we lie like this. Not too short, but not too long. She stands up and walks away. I can manage, now. The sky, once blue, has filled with stars. She runs towards them and grows wings. In flight, she turns to me. “See you around.” She disappears in the night, but not before she has made the trees bloom all around me. A beautiful, protecting sight against the dark sky. I am content, and I lie there for a while longer.

Then I’m outside. I find the little valley and the tree. I sit down on a branch and listen to nature. Thinking about her. And then, as if she’d always been there, she appears in the corner of my arm. Calm.

Here I end the meditation session.