The World Inside My Head
The World Inside My Head
By Wealth Jibunor
Not all places can become a reality, that is why we have imagination. That is why we dream. I, for one, have created several versions of reality and each version is always ready to play. The events in each reality I have created are always ready to shift and alter themselves at my command. That’s the beauty of imagination. Anything can be yours, anything can happen.
In a world inside my head, the sky is pink and cloudless, silky and electric, bright but subtle. The sky is always clear and specks of light, stars, shine 24/7, even in the daytime. The roads are long and endless, with palm trees lining them, the leaves on the trees a spectacular shade of bright green. I can’t just leave it at that though, I’m a very detailed person and my dreams and imaginations have details that though everyone else would think unnecessary, I think adds a much-needed spark to my fantasies. The leaves of the trees are emerald green and over 75 feet tall. Every once in a while, it will drizzle silver raindrops and they will make a sort of music as they hit the trees and cars and roads.
On one side of the road, there is a beach, with the most beautiful pastel pink sand you could ever imagine, and the most striking cobalt blue water. The water shimmers even though the sky has no sun, and when the wind blows, it transports little packs of glitter through the air. The water is refreshing; the sand is cold and does not stick to your toes and belongings like the pesky sand in actual life. There are purple butterflies flying around in swarms, and there are turquoise birds speeding through the sky. People have put up their own private cabanas and umbrellas and are lounging in the world’s peacefulness. White translucent seashells are scattered visibly across the surface of the sand, and with each wave that comes back to shore, the water brings dozens more.
On the other side of the road, however, is a completely different scene. There is a huge Victorian building and upon entering, you will find thousands of books. The ceiling is high, and the roof has several aged porcelain paintings in soft pastel colors. The floors are tiled with light-toned colors in diamond shapes, while the bookshelves are made of the clearest glass, with intricate designs and carvings to decorate them. The books are mostly of authors I enjoy, J.K Rowling, Jacqueline Wilson, Sally Thorne, Jenn Bennett, Jenny Han, Rainbow Rowell, Ally Carter, Stephanie Perkins et cetera, and thousands of other books that I would enjoy. The covers of the books are all first editions, much different from first edition books in reality (they cost thousands if not millions of dollars). Soft music plays in the background and the more you venture in, the more the library expands; enough books to keep you there for centuries on end.
Now when you finally find the exit of the magnificent library, you might see a school. Not the type of school you would normally go to. You must have gathered that by now. The school is all white, spotless, and would resemble a museum more than its intended purpose. The ceilings are high as well and there are beautiful ceramic fountains in front of it, spouting sharp colored water the same from the beach. The students wear deep green blazers and white shirts, with green and silver striped ties. The girls’ skirts are plaid, pleated, and knee-length, the boys’ trousers are black and ankle length. Our school crest is pressed neatly onto the breast pockets of our shirts and blazers and onto the side of our socks, a snake crest exactly the same as the Slytherin logo from the famous Harry Potter novels. In this school, everything is antique, everything is ethereal. The lockers are three tiers, made from shiny mahogany wood and the floors are checkered black and white. We don’t do ordinary subjects here. The students here are nice, no one is a bully. We all successfully co-exist in our very own colorful world. We all possess unique powers too, some of us possess the gift of magic, the witches and wizards. Some of us have elevated strength, speed, and senses, the vampires. Some of us have the gift of communicating with nature, the nature bearers. Some of us are just ordinary, some of us are supernatural.
But nonetheless, and incredibly unfortunately, all of this is fake. All of this is inside my head, for my enjoyment and experience only, and though a big part of me wishes that my make-believe world would somehow be real, another part of me is happy that I am the only one that gets to see the world inside my head.
