Sleep, oh sleep. People always say, “You can sleep when you’re dead.” I always used to think that what they meant by that was that life and time is too valuable to spend your time sleeping through it. I think this is true; maybe you shouldn’t spend your whole life sleeping. But you want to know what I think this quote of the ages really means, it means sleep when you’re dead not because if you sleep now you’re wasting your life, but sleep when you’re dead because you can’t sleep now. There is no time. Sleep is something that goes through a complete cycle over your lifetime. As a little child you are forced to go to bed by eight o’clock for your early bed time. Now I would do anything to be able to go to bed by ten o’clock and probably would claim a national holiday if I get be asleep by eight. When you’re little some of the best sleepovers, which is really an oxymoron in itself, are when you can go nearly the entire night without sleeping. You are the coolest kid on the block when you and a couple of your buddies pull of an all nighter. Now you are forced to stay up into the wee hours of the night. Longing so dearly to be able to rest your head on your feather soft pillow and feel the warm comfort of your blankets wrapped around you. When you are able to get that minute amount of sleep mashed in-between all the hustle and bustle it seems to be over before you even get your eyes closed. It is violently interrupted with that dreaded sound of beep, beep, beep. This usually is followed by another beep, beep, beep, only this time they are from you, not the alarm clock. After you finally drag your self out of bed automatically your first thought is when will I be able to crawl into bed again? So what do you do about this dilemma? The question of when to find time to sleep is one that will never be answered.
We get out of the car and immediately you can see it, it appears to be a separate town of it’s own, far, far off into the distance. There is an old fence built up around the city, built of course out of fallen trees and timber that have been cut down by the brute force of a man. We are getting closer and closer, the SUV’s, sports sedans, and Harley Davidson’s, are beginning to be replaced with a mule pulling a carriage, two men pushing a wheel cart, and a knight on a horse. In almost all directions it appears to be a technologically advanced society with cars and freeways, but straight ahead is something completely different. It is like a time capsule, it sticks out like a sore thumb, but is neatly tucked back into the trees. We are almost there now, losing the sense of time. Not in the sense I don’t know how long I have been here, but I am truly losing a sense of what year it is and what is truly present day? We approach even closer only steps away now. Our brains are rushed with millions of different sensations. Sounds of music draw us in, but nothing that will ever be played on a radio or that had ever put onto a record. It is music of bagpipes, violins, drums and symbols, very foreign sounds and beats. We are finally there, we are at the cities gates, and as soon as we enter the gates we go back, no certainly not back to where we came, but back hundreds of years.
The talk is that of a different time. Tis not a different language certainly no, but tis a bit different. Your head is spinning trying to keep up; there is just so much to process. There are people learning a new dance, “Left, back, rotate, clap, clap, clap, and turn.” I see young children dressed up as fairies, with wings, glitter, and flowers abound. There are peasants dressed in leathered sandals, shirts that appear to be made out of a burlock sack; all the while they have wooden mugs strapped around their waste. I see the Queen dressed in a dress large enough you could hide in, with sequences, ribbon shimmer and shine, catching every spectator’s eye. As we make our way through the town we are going further and further back, deeper and deeper into this mystic world. With each step escaping reality even more.
Our journey tis not one without purpose, but one with a desired goal and celebration in mind. Thy journey is weaving and circling making rounds all over, but with the intent of a certain location and a certain time, time of course being an hour mark not one that would be studied in history books. At the hour of three we make our way to a feast. The line is weaving all around like a snake slithering through all the commotion. It is full of eager people of all different ages. There is a little boy dressed in jean overalls and a husker t-shirt that inquires, “Mommy what are we doing here? What are we going to have to eat? I’m hungry.” This young lad has no idea what a glorious encounter he is about to have. Again suspense mounts as we wait for the gates to be opened. Curiosity is overtaking my body, once again losing a sense of where you are, what time it is, and why it tis that you are waiting in such a line.
As soon as this last thought of logic races through your mind you are violently shook back into this world by one of the earth’s largest creatures. There is an elephant trudging around the town, tusk and ears bigger than ever, ready to stomp any unsuspecting pedestrian. His master leads him only by a simple rod poking him which way to go and when to stop. The situation tis truly ironic such a massive animal taking commands willingly from such a hobbet of a man.
Tis I that regains our focus onto our desired goal of entering the feast. And again we wait, filled with wonder and curiosity. Then with a rush of excitement and glory the gates are hurled open. Pascal, our dinner host, greets us, “Hello my great people of the Queen!” We begin to take our seats with a scurry. There is a mad rush to get some of the prime seats near the front for best viewing of the festivities. We are unfortunate to get a seat on the side of the tent, but all is well and fare for the true festivities are about to begin.
Tis now that you are truly ready for the feast. Upon the second you enter the festivity you know that it tis going to be a glorious day. The emotion and excitement is rustling and bustling all around you. Everyone can feel the anticipation of what the day holds for him or her. There is a certain amount of expectation, but all expectations are about to be surpassed. No lad could ever come to imagine what is on the menu for entertainment and for the belly. Where does one start when there is such an overwhelming feeling of joy? Tis with the heart indeed. The heart is a joyous and fragile element that must be held strong, but not strangled. It must be caressed and stroked, but never squeezed. The first bit of entertainment was that in the art of wooing. We were enchanted with all different types, origins, and styles. All of which becoming very successful in their own ways. The first display of wooing was by a man with sufficient grace, elegance, class, and charm. He used his valuable assets to look deep into the women’s eyes and make her melt. I have never seen such a powerful attraction between two unspoken strangers. She was absolutely devouring every moment. She was lost, lost in a world without heartache or pain. Lost in a world where falling in love was an everyday occurrence, time after time falling deeper and deeper in to love. Wishing never to return from her fantasy world.
It has been said the key to a man’s heart is through his belly. Well the cook must have been Romeo’s Juliet because she was enchanting men and women, elder and child, all without even showing her face. Her wooing began with a plate full of fruits. Bighting into the grapes you could feel your mouth being rushed with juices as if a floodgate had opened. The crackers were of perfect texture first a firm crunch then ever so slightly dissolving in your mouth. Some of the finest cheeses and vegetables invigorated every taste bud. All of which were like taking your wedding vows to this unknown women. She had everyone longing and begging for more.
Just as you let your appetite take a rest you are teased with an aroma that makes your mouth drip with saliva. At the moment it is undefiable, but you know that you are about to be pleased. Then it is delivered to you an enormous portion of mash potatoes, big enough you could eat with a shovel. Sitting next to the potatoes is a heaping piece of beef that has been slowly simmered all day. Each bite of this thick, juicy, moist slab of meat is a divine sensation. You are stuffed to the brim and can’t take another bite. The eating must stop or you will surely explode. The feast is over and we are beginning to head back to the way we came. We have been blessed with a celebration fit for a king. This fantasy world is something that we must encounter again. If possible we must do it daily, every chance we get. We came into a new world full of imagination and it rewarded us handsomely. Imaginations must be kept alive to enjoy life, it gives us a break from reality and is an amazing journey every time.
