Concordia’s World came to me as if in a dream. At first it was a place I escaped to during meditation, a place that gave me comfort and a sense of relief from the traumas and hardships of the real world. As I escaped into it more and more, my imaginary world grew and I found it easier and easier to escape there.
However, at present I feel as though I’m a prisoner in the real world. I long to escape but my imagination is currently failing me. So this morning I’ve decided to do what I’ve done in the past, and simply see if I can write my way out of my head.
So where does my journey begin?
My Dad got admitted to hospital a few days before Christmas and is still there. Two members of my family are ill and having surgery. I’ve been ill all through the festive period with flu and yesterday I was diagnosed with tonsillitis. In the great scheme of things my own illness is not life threatening, it’s simply an inconvenience, a rough period to be born out. Normally I would be telling myself that life is too short to waste feeling sorry for myself. I would simply be getting on with it.
So what’s different? Why do I feel locked outside my imaginary world? Why can’t I get back in?
It’s just occurred to me that I felt trapped like this when I was suffering depression. I became a prisoner inside my own head. Far too much time spent ruminating. And with this realisation comes a desire to give myself a big kick in the pants. Come on, for heaven’s sake, you can kick this.
Over the past few days since the start of the new year, I have been trying to summon up the enthusiasm to write a little more of my book, but it’s as though I’m currently locked outside its gates and I can’t find my way back inside.
Remember you have a choice, comes a voice in my head. You can free yourself. You only have to want it badly enough.
I’m reminded of a wonderful scene in one of the Harry Potter films, where the intrepid hero’s are stuck in the vaults of Gringots. They break free on the back of a poor dragon that’s been held prisoner. That’s kind of how I feel right now. Not like the hero’s, but like the dragon.
I feel battered and torn, worn down and shackled deep down inside the dark dungeon that has become my life. I so desperately need a Hermione Granger to set me free of my chains in order that I may rescue her and her friends.
As the image comes to mind I can positively feel my chains fall away, the brick and stones that form my gaol crumble beneath the power of my huge claws as I scramble my way upwards. Up and up until I smash through the glass ceiling, sending showers of glass tumbling through the air as I break free. I leap into the air, my huge wings beating to find the air currents that will lift me clear of the building and climb high into the air. My wings beat with effort. I can do this. I climb, higher, higher through the dank, grey mist until I finally break through the stormy clouds and gasp in huge gulps of pure fresh air. I hadn’t known until now how much I’d been drowning, choking and suffocating. Oh it feels so wonderful to breath again, great lungfuls of clean fresh air.
My wings catch the thermal currents and I soar high about the ground, above the clouds in the clear blue skies, over the mountain tops. And as I fly I can feel tingles sweep over me, as the magic seeps into every pore of my being. With every beat of my wings they become stronger. Their dull sludge-grey tatters heal before my eyes and begin to transform. I watch transfixed as they begin to shimmer with turquoise blue light. Can you feel it too? Can you feel the magic as I do?
I can see Concordia’s World ahead of me, there it is, down in the valley below. I loop in the sky for joy.
The shimmer of light continues to wrap itself around my body and I feel a delightful shiver as it washes over my entire length, right from the tip of my nose, along my back, finishing with a final flourish as it leaves my tail and forms a little trail of turquoise sparkles hanging in the air as I descend and land softly in my beloved Concordia’s World.
I’m home again.