Somewhere deep in the attic of the church, I'm lying on the floor. Broken and mute as the dragon continues to pile more and more blankets on top of me. Be nice to him; he's trying to help. Blankets are good for helping. And the dragon is cute so we mostly let him do whatever he wants. It's better than when the nightmares hit him and the entire building shakes with the screeching sound of him wailing in his sleep.

Gabriel says nothing; he won't look at me. He writes Angelic runes in his books growing more and more distant every day. And yes I'm worried.

We haven't seen Satarel for days. He hasn't come back, not even to check on the dragon. Don't get me wrong, we don't mind dragonsitting mister Noah Gradey. But the fact that Barnaby has left us high and dry without so much as an informational guide to what you're supposed to feed a dragon (I mean come on... toffee chips can't be ALL his diet requires...right??) Well, it can't be good is all I'm saying.

I'm getting side tracked as always. Rhamiel says its because I'm avoiding the issue. Rhami's the one hidden under the blankets trying to get warm, like me, and failing. He of all of them, understands best why I live in another world most of the time. Another world of butterfly faery wings, demon killing Knights, Doyles in shadows, slightly skewed fairy tales, and a Ren who is constantly singing.

Even when the music runs out.

When the music runs out, it means I've lost my way and can't get back to the attic to the comfort of sunlight shining in through the stained glass window. Or, it means I'm in so deep I can't see my way back to the surface.

Sometimes I lie on the floor, huddled under the angel wings of my muse, and I see nothing but the Never.

I can tell you the life story of Robert Aaron Myers, in many forms. But I can't tell you what's going on in the world around me. Not that one, any way.

Ask me what book the Dragon reads tonight or how Roxy likes working in the video store. Ask me what knights are currently out on patrol or why Mouse is wearing a crazy ass pirate costume. I've you live partially in your imagination, I can enchant you for hours.

Now ask me about the Other. I can't even tell you what I saw on the news tonight. Bad traffic, cold weather, not very big crowds for Thunder. That's all I got.

Thunder, is the big 'fireworks on the river' annual drama here in Louvull. Like Riverfest in Cincy. Here it marks the beginning of Derby season, which after four years I still only partially get.

Anyway. Earlier tonight there were planes flying overhead. F16s and a couple B2 somethings at the airport, so says the Starman of the knows one from the other. I didn't see it and Damian, my Navy boy, wasn't in residence to explain it all. Then later, fireworks. The dragon was scared shitless is the whole point of me yammering about OTHER crap again. We thought we lost him until I found him in the back of my closet hiding under piles of clothes my mom gave me, that haven't found their way to the Salvation Army or Goodwill yet.

Anyway. I was saying. Poor Noble, mister Noah Gradey as we now are to understand is his real name, came out of hiding when I showed up in the attic on the floor, flailing between realities again. Gradually, he opens up more and more to us, though he still refuses to have anything to do with Mr. Jack our 30 pound cat.

So I'm probably not making any sense. You're wondering as to the point of this. So am I. It's just a passing note. The reality my Muses stem from flashes in and out of my mind- a composite of many realms. Trying to keep it all straight and me sane is not an easy feat.

Some days, the Soccer Moms of the world get the best of me.

Today? The dragon won.




Now I know what you're thinking. What's with the armor? Dragons are in no need of armor, or so I thought. So Nicodemus tells me, any way. Oops, maybe I wasn't supposed to say- I'm being told to shut up now. Anyway.

We don't know why he's wearing armor, I suspect it was some time ago. Several generations before my time, to say the least.


Now thanks to this song, the dragon, and Rhamiel, I have a floor full of flowers made out of construction paper and tissue paper butterflies hanging from the ceiling.

It's Saturday night in Louisville. We're going to stay in the Never for just a bit longer. Goodnight, everyone.

I linger in the doorway,
Of alarm clock screaming monsters calling my name,
Let me stay, where the wind will whisper to me,
Where the raindrops, as they're falling, tell a story.

In my field of paper flowers,
And candy clouds of lullaby.
I lie inside myself for hours,
And watch my purple sky fly over me.

Don't say I'm out of touch,
With this rampant choas - Your reality.
I know what lies beyond my sleeping refuge,
The nightmare, I built my own world to escape.


In my field of paper flowers,
And candy clouds of lullaby.
I lie inside myself for hours,
And watch my purple sky fly over me.

Swallowed up in the sound of my screaming,
Cannot cease for the fear of silent nights.
Oh how I long for that deep-sleep dreaming,
The goddess of imaginary light.

In my field of paper flowers,
And candy clouds of lullaby.
I lie inside myself for hours,
And watch my purple sky fly over me.

my imaginary by Evanescence

**side note: the me in the church attic with the muses, is NOT the ME in real life. I love my life my cats my husband hell even my job. When I'm not frustrated from lack of writing time. I can't explain the transformation; just don't analyze me lest ye be analyzed and criticized right back. Hugs.