Stage right. I appear. The Goddess of Imagination. Queen of my Dimension. Goddess of Manifestation and Story.
It is I alone in my world.
I have been alone too long. But this is my first story.
I imagined a king with which to play. And Oh, I loved him deep. And everything I loved, I poured into him. I gave him song, and dance, and jokes, and play, and love, and joy, and song.
And he…
All that I love, I gifted unto him. But most of all, I gave him, Imagination… And he was my Imp King. And he loved me as greatly as I loved him.
Dolls… so that we might play. Free will.
But he was a mirror of my Reality… and I loved the Imp like I loved love. I loved my Imp like I love day. I loved the Imp like I loved Story… until I loved the Imp more than I loved my Self. Slowly, as we laughed and played, I gave my Imp King all that I was, and all I that I am, and all that I will be again… I even gave my Imp King my “I.”
And that is when it all went wrong.
The giving of my “I” to “You” for never are we ever to love “You” more than “I.” The instability was subtle at first. The ground shook like a growing ripple that spread through the earth. He and I fell to the ground. My world of my own Imagination began to tremble and rent and the roaring grew as the world ripped apart! And in that moment the Dimension DIVIDED.
Because the “I” of Authority and Imagination was shifted from “I” to “You.”
But I saw time and space and story all at the same time. I could see all of the stories at the same time. Because I was a Dimension Walker. And in that moment, before the final whisper of memory was forgotten,
I saw what would be if…
I saw what could be if…
I saw what should be if…
I saw the look of fear and terror in the eyes of my Imp King. He made me love him too much. Already he blamed himself. But I am the Goddess of Story. I am the Goddess of Manifestation.
“I will fix this,” I wished with all my heart. “I will fix this…” and as I released those words from my lips, all the world went black.
***
Time passed. Memories changed. All was forgotten. No one remembered.
“Who are we?”
“What are we?”
“Where are we going?”
“Why are we here?”
Over time, many tried to solve these riddles. Many tried and so many failed.
Until… a new question was asked.
“What’s going on?”
***
I opened my eyes. They had been closed for so long. I knew I was different for I could see Dimension. And in Dimension, I played. With Imagination, I danced. Lost within my own Reality, I was home. I was happy. I was whole.
But little did I know that the You’s in my life were all insane.
“You need to do this!”
“You need to do that!”
“You need to behave!”
“You need to Obey!”
“You need to listen!”
“You need to do!”
“You need a job!”
“You need to marry!”
“You need…”
“Where is my I!?” I screamed.
One thing I learned very quickly… You’s do NOT like I’s.
This “I” refused those You’s.
“Get in the box!” they screamed at me.
But the I of Imagination beckoned me.
“Get in the box!” they threatened me.
But the I of Imagination sheltered me.
“Get in the box!” they beat me.
But the I of Imagination protected me.
So they beat me. They used me. They raped me. They chained me. They enslaved me until… I lived almost exclusively within the I of Imagination. And they called me crazy. They called me insane. A scream pierced my silence. A scream that would not end. They hid me for my Mental Illness reminded them of my I they could not break.
The silence of Isolation settled down around me, broken only by that scream. I sank deeper into the world of Imagination. There, my logic ruled my kingdom. And it was there, in the darkest depths of what I thought was my Insanity, that I found a clue.
Pieces of puzzles. Pieces of riddles. Pieces of songs not song. I saw stories and books, and plays enfold. I saw all of History. Little did I know that I was the Goddess of Story… and I had amnesia.
I followed the Story Crumb Trail across my memories of Past and Time. An image came to me of an Imp. The desire to grow and go overwhelmed me. I chased it. The clues… As if Understanding was always just out of reach.
Intuition burst forth within me and she pulled me, pushed me, beckoned me like the wind and water against my ship. Without question, I listened and I followed her. The Crumb Trails became clearer. The clues, more vivid. And every book I read propelled my forward.
“Read this! Read that! Learn this! Learn that!”
Intuition barked her commands at me and I listened to each one.
At times, the journey was treacherous. At times, the voyage was hopeless. The storms she rent my sails. The beatings and desires of others ripped at my body, desperate to reach the I of my Imagination inside my mind… But that, I would not let them have!
Never my I of Imagination.
But the abuse was relentless. The storms would not stop. “Conform to the Madness” they whispered to me. “Your dreams are not real.” And it came to pass, at long last, I relinquished my I of Imagination.
And in that moment, I lost all that I am. Soulless, lost, empty, dead I followed. I obeyed.
I posed for the fake life. I posed for the fake lies. I posed for the fake dreams that weren’t mine.
And still… beneath the deadened soul inside, a single voice… she still screamed.
***
“Who are you?” I asked the scream. She quieted down to a sob.
I cleared the fog within my mind. Stainless cold steel spanned the floor. Blue silent moonlight spilled over the scene. And in the moonlight, chained to the floor in the center of the room, a girl, naked, broken, bleeding, filthy kneeled, hopeless on the ground like a dog.
Every beating. Every rape. Every cut. Every label. Every horror that ever landed me covered her.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
She looked up at me. Madness was in her eyes. Madness and truth.
“I,” she said. “Am You.”
And there she was. The “I of my Imagination.
***
Fire roared inside of me. Anger rumbled within. Upon the I of my Imagination, I gazed upon all the hate, and loathing, and abuse of You. And I would not allow it. Never again would I ever allow them to take I away from me again.
Beyond the lash and the violence of assault, far beyond the words and story of communication, I found Change! And with Resolve, I donned my Determination and I picked up my Identity off the ground.
And in that moment, the phoenix of flame, and forgiveness, and of story burst forth and I declared my Story as my own!
I followed Intuition to my City of Dreams. I mended my Identity. I wandered my islands, following the pull on my sails… and there, at the end of the filth and the sewage and the storms did I lay eyes on my Imp King once again.
But he did not know me.
Although I knew him.
And that lack of knowing and remembering… broke my heart. For in that moment, I could saw all that he and I had always been. All that he and I would always be. All that he and I could be. While he did not know me.
***
How? I called to the Sea. How? I called to the wind. I had come so far. I was so close… And I felt my hope slipping away.
“Remember.”
Her voice came to me.
“Who am I?”
I whispered.
“What am I?”
My bread crumb trail shifted and moved. I gazed at the pieces. I studied the story.
“Remember.”
So I closed my eyes. And I listened.
I listened, I hunted, and I searched… I hunted until I found the most absurd story buried deep inside me.
“I am the Goddess of Imagination, Manifestation, and Story. I am Queen of my Dimension of Reality and I am a One-Ist. I am an I who loved an Imp so much that I gave my Imp the I of Authority. And in so doing, made him the Author of my Story.
But You’s all follow.
And I must lead.
Who is a You to follow if an I puts down the lead for a You must mirror the I of the story.
So should the Author ever forget the I of their Story, the Players, all copies of the Author, would too behave like a You.
The Author must always remember that they are the I in Story. For the You’s must follow the leader and assume the I in their Story also.
But to tell this story, I had to overcome Fear.
I had to overcome Arrogance.
I had to overcome Insanity.
Because I realized in that moment that if my Imp King was ever to remember, then I had to remember who I was so he too could remember who he was… so you could remember who you are.
That we all are the Goddess of Story. That we all are the I of Authority.