Never Mind

A brief foray into the power of imagination

To an Artist's eye, shadow and light reveal true realism. Studying their interplay on common objects throughout the day fascinated Mark Evans. He was a paid commercial artist, never having earned a cent for doing anything creative.

“There it is again.” The dream image had never let go. “Why does this mad yearning inside my chest only happen on the fall equinox?”

The initial shock of seeing the real thing had never entirely left him. Every year it was the same..The impulse to do something about it was almost irresistible.

He stood transfixed. Sunlight and shadow mingled together on the shop’s glass door reflection. The image cleared to depict a second door opening behind him. All he had to do was step backwards to be swallowed up by it.

The strange thing was that Mark’s own image was not in the reflection. Mark was both fascinated and repulsed by the experience. The first few years had been maddening. Now it was like meeting a familiar friend you'd scheduled a meeting with that you kept putting off.

“Are you going in or not?” Francie Mower pushed in front of Mark to go inside. It was take a few steps back or collide, making them both fall. He stepped back.

There was a cool rush of air and the sound of the door closing. The dream version had never taken Mark this far. He gave in to the impulse to turn around.

“I’d about given up on you.”

“Jennifer?

“Well? Aren’t you going to hug me?”

“Am I going mad?” Jennifer was Mark’s perfect dream girl. No human had ever come close to matching her. He found himself welcoming all five feet seven inches in his arms. Her chestnut brown pony tail smelled of lavender, her warmth was intoxicating.

“Hmm. This is better than even what I’ve been hoping for.” Jennifer leaned back, studying the bewildered expression on Mark’s face. “Please. Give us a chance.”

Mark found Jennifer’s hand stroking into his, tugging him deeper into the light and shadows playing before his eyes. “What is this place?”

“That’s up to you, babe. Here, the mind creates its own reality.” Jennifer’s laughter played tingles down Mark’s spine. “Actually, in your old world, the mind does the same thing, only in a more subtle way.”

Mark needed to sit down. He felt faint. His heart was racing. He fell backward. A chair appeared out of nowhere for him to sink into. Jennifer came tumbling onto his lap, giggling while cuddling into him. “Now we can be together forever.”

The moment felt so dreamlike Mark could taste it. “When we sleep, will I dream of my old self doing commercial art?”

Jennifer stroked Mark’s chin. “You will have to tell me. Here, you are a successful creative artist. Your black and white sketches alone are worth big money. We’re happily married.”

“Just like in my dreams.”

“Here, that is real. You need solitude to, excuse the expression, dream up your art.” Jennifer bit her lip.

“You are suggesting that’s when I am awake on the other side. Of that door.”

“No. You are saying that. I am just happy you are here. You get so intensely self involved this time of year, it is hard to get through to you. This year especially.” Jennifer shifted her weight, “I followed you.”

“And?”

“You disappeared through that door. I waited what felt like forever.”

Everything was coming clearer. Light and shadow fused into common shapes around him. He studied them with his artist’s eye and winked at Jennifer. “If I’m dreaming this, I never want to wake up. Let’s go home.”