sanctum

In a bedroom in a labyrinth underground, I wrestle with dreams, and plastic stars on the ceiling glow down on my nocturnal stirrings. I embrace a plush bear that, sensing the overture of a nightmare, softly sings a lullaby. I see the moon, and the moon sees me. The bedroom door creaks open, casting a sliver of golden light on the wallpaper teeming with smiling nursery rhyme creatures. A young girl approaches my bed and kneels to touch me. Turning, I smile, Sophia. Time to wake up, she says. You've slept so long. Come and play with me. I rub my eyes and sit up, and she takes my hand and guides me into the bright hallway. ~ She has always been with me. I don't remember a time without her. She crawls behind the walls with me, into the secret places of this subterranean universe. I never want to leave this place, and I know I never will. There is no time down here. The future is a vague mist easily forgotten. Now is real. It stretches to infinity in all directions. Adults exist in a cloudy dimension three feet above. They've seen the future, and they are scared. They murmur of impending dangers. Curious, I search for the object of their fear, stalking down dark hallways with a plastic sword. I know I'll beat it if I find it; I'm the hero. ~ In the upper halls, I hear the distant growling of a beast drawing me up, asking to be vanquished. Sophia begs me not to go. She weeps and rends her golden hair. She tugs at my arm, but I break away and she does not follow. I ascend through door after door until the passageway narrows so I must squeeze up and out of a hole in the base of a large fruit tree. On the surface, all is silent except the rhythmic chorus of crickets and a whispering canopy of leaves that shields me from the burning stars above. And so I rise and walk into the dark world where my only real weapon is the fading memories of my underground home.