She looked around her room. How can I make this world of my room more magical? In what ways can I think about this world that would make me ecstatic? How can I enter into a fantasy within this real world's bounds? She had all the lights turned off except for a soft light from a single lamp used for fixing cars. She picked out the light bulb with the faintest light. It was yellow, instead of the white light she sometimes craved for that machine static state. Instead it gave a yellow soft glow that was homely and comfortable in it's richness. That was a good start although white light gives her an otherworldly aura in her room. But yellow light felt like Home now and she was grateful for it. The Poppy perfume spiraled around her room as the wind of the cool night blew in through the open windows. Her cats she wanted in her room but they were not there. So she imagined they were there like before: One at her desk, the other two at each of her windows, and one by her legs on the bed. Cats gave her a majestic feel for they were graceful animals who had emotions and personalities like humans. One cat would be more timid than the others in each of her cat litters. The group of grown up cats were plump and rarely played with their toys while the group of kittens always ran wildly in the room and had an unlimited supply of food but did not eat much.

She focused her attention back upon the realm of her room which she imagined she owned as one of her only possessions. In it, she could create whatever collection of things she craved, except for things that were unacceptable. So she thought about what luxuries she could imagine having, a sort of hobby by collecting things of nature like pebbles, shells, or even unnatural things like wrappers or beads or fashion pins that she saw as brilliant artistic gems. She could own a bead collection, she said again. Or go to the beach to collect shells each day as a hobby. They are free to own and yet nature's treasure. And beads as manmade treasures that were tiny enough to be collected in her small room. But much smaller were her words. If she could collect those she'd be rich. To collect ideas she did not need space; She could remember them. And they were invaluable for she could put them into practice and live them. And she could share them with others when they saw it's qualities within her being.

She no longer focused on reality, but upon her Idea World. Here, she was still in the atmosphere of some sort of universe, even her own, but she could be anywhere she chose. A workroom was on her mind. She saw her room as that workroom, and yet in her imagination she imagined it in her sim's videogame, and in the forest cabin of her visualization from a self help tape. She imagined finally her room again but stepped back imagining it differently than it is. She let the reality of her room subside and instead thought of her room as a state of being able to be changed in her imagination. She went back to the representative idea of her room as a workroom. Out flowed back the ideas of the videogame and forest cabin. Where can I begin building this imaginary workroom? Perhaps I shall use what I already have in mind. Since the forest cabin was in her mind alone rather than the videogame which was in reality, she favored the idea instead.

In my forest cabin's workroom, I enter into it and land back into the realm of Lumiere and his friend's room. He is preparing a scented bath, and his bird has just awoken from sleep when it heard me coming by the fireside. There was a batch of soup cooking in a pot over the fire. Water was boiling and he was chopping up some fresh vegetables he bought from the Market. All healthy, all organic, I felt like asking if I could enjoy some soup with him later on. The moon outside his window reminded me of the diary in the middle of the forest open to it's moonlight. It was a mysterious diary as if from an Elven priesthood or some kind of witch or magician. A book of spells all in idea form. Riddles that were clear to those who knew it's mysteries and the unknown parts of the universe.

Glancing back from the idea to his abode, I sat down on a wooden rocking chair and took a look at the bird again which seemed to be a parrot. As I rocked back I put my foot down to still it as I was facing the ceiling of the clay house. There were no lights like the electric one in my room. Only the fireplace and candles shone light to us all along with the full moon outside his window. I thought to myself that this is such a pleasant way to live. But I took a look back forward to my own Room in reality, and I enjoyed the glorious electric lamp that glazed a light yellow scent of light. And I appreciated being back at home again, my own home, away from the time transportation of inside the forest cabin's workroom.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 19.07.2011

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