Once upon a time in a far away place called Boston, there lived a rich and handsome boy named Johnny. Well his name really isn’t Johnny it’s actually John, Johnny is a nickname or something. Anyway, Johnny had a big problem, he was extremely dense. He was so dense that light would bend around him. This also explains why some people called him dim.
Every night and right before his afternoon nap he would get on his knees and beg for a magical ogre to appear and grant him smartness and a lower density.
Which is a very dumb thing to do in my opinion because ogres don’t exist and if they did they wouldn’t grant wishes.
It was one of those times again where I wish I had a camera. I wish I could capture the beautiful imagery in front of me. I wish I can show it to the world.
I wish I was an artist who can transform this keyboard into a pallet and create words that can capture colors and textures. Then I wish those words would turn into a film, with amazing special effects and HD quality. So good your mind will make popcorn with extra butter for you to enjoy. Or perhaps nachos with salsa if that’s what you prefer.
But it shouldn’t matter because you will be too busy enjoying the view. The sunlight is bright, even through the dusty window, and it sends a small shaft of light into the room. It is reflected on the dust particles floating around. They look like glitter. Dancing glitter. Can a camera capture that? Probably the really good ones. The really expensive ones. I should probably save up.
I think about the old tin can on my closet shelf. It holds forty dollars and twenty cents, old money I never looked at or used. I wonder how they would look in this bright but faded sunlight. I wonder if the old dust would play with new or if it would be too weighted down by time to float and dance like the glitter.
I wonder if all my childhood dreams are trapped within the folds of the faded bills. Perhaps they sleep in the groves of the carved coins. Here’s one by Abraham Lincoln’s beard, settled and relaxed in the penny. I wonder if they know that they are forgotten. Should I let them go? Unfold them one by one and let them dance with the glitter. Maybe then something magical might happen and the faded February sun might merge with the forgotten dreams and the dust would link them together. Dancing back and forth until they live once again.
Their essence would be released and I would absorb it with my pores, like a sponge. Hungry lovely parasites that will feed off my brain, vampires that suck life to survive.
But you can’t see that, all you can see is the sunlight and the dust. Or at least you would if I had a camera. I should probably save up.