July 9, 2005 Dear Self, Last night, I had the pleasure of watching Finding Neverland by myself, in my mother's office. For the first time in a very long while, I found something that really connects to me. Incidentally, I mostly find pieces of literature that speak to me, and this film was loosely about the author of Peter Pan. I found myself getting submersed in it, relishing in each twist and turn, finding pieces of myself along the way. The idea of Neverland has always fascinated me, the ability to drift away into fantasy and hope - never growing up, even if you age. I've always had a little Neverland, a place to escape to and declare my own. Someplace with rolling hills and bright green grass, and a big blue sky with fluffy clouds that I can stare up at all day and make pictures out of. Someplace where it's okay to daydream of another daydream. This is the place I often start out in. Most times, I'm in a dense forest that I can hide in, with animals to keep me company. Sometimes sitting in a large tree that is hundreds - maybe even thousands - of years old, writing in my story or just dozing off. Listening to the birdsongs, and often the sound of water - a river, perhaps, or maybe even a waterfall. Or maybe there's a beach nearby, one that I have yet to explore. Sometimes, sitting under a massive tree, on the grass, or inside a secret cove of vines with a little black cat curled up in my lap. On some occasions my Neverland is a big ballroom. With the orchestra playing, and me in a flowing red and black dress that reaches the floor in length, and my wrists and ears and neck adorned with rubies. Seems, in this scenario, I'm waiting for someone to take my hand and ask me to dance, though they never do, so I find myself dancing alone with the shadow orchestra playing in the background. No matter what the turnout of this daydream of mine, it's always beautiful, and I find myself often not wanting to leave this place - wanting to dance forever. Then there are the times when I go to the library, with shelves to the ceiling, filled with books that I've never read and also some of my favorites. Miles and miles, rows and rows of books and stories, and other people's Neverlands to escape to. And in each corner, there is a chair or a couch to curl up in, one that you sink into when you sit down. The type of chair you don't want to get out of. The lighting is perfect - a gentle, warm tone, nice and soft, just enough to see, and yet not so dim to make you weary while in the middle of an adventure. In this daydream I'm always in a comfortable pair of jeans and a soft brown sweater, with my hair back in a braid and my glasses rested gingerly on the bridge of my nose. Even though, try as I may when I wear them, they never stay perfectly on my nose. Yet, in the daydream, as anticipated, they always do. So I understand having a Neverland, and know the joy it brings to one's creative mind, and also the stress it relieves as well. Perhaps more people should have Neverlands of their own. Perhaps more people, in a sense, should never grow up. Well, this is enough thinking on my part for this morning...perhaps I'll add more tomorrow. As always, -Summer, age 15