“I desired dragons with a profound desire. Of course, I
in my timid body did not wish to have them in the neighborhood. But the world
that contained even the imagination of Fáfnir was richer and more
beautiful, at whatever the cost of peril.”
A Dish of Dragons
A dish of dragons served from pages gilt with gold, brown speckled, worn thin where thumbprint pressed a thousand times, turning to the rapt rhythm of her reading heart, pulsing fast to feed synapses firing faster and faster as the beat of each webbed wing, veined in verdigris, jointed with jewels, wafts opalescent glamour round blood, tissue, bone impregnating each molecule of desire until one can only fly; fanged throat open to catch the sweeping air, feed the belly’s flame, imitate sun’s bright ferocity causing opalescent scales to glint bright emerald , sapphire, amethyst – sparkling color all girl child, standing far below can see, squinting at the sky, hand raised to shield while something magic, huge and grave passes grandly by.
Years ago Faerie cast a glamor over me from which I have never recovered. Nor do I want to. The magic of the wonder tales set sparkles of magic around my peripheral vision, allowing me glimpses of other worlds and thoughts; teaching me to gaze softly, indirectly into the faces of animals who might at any moment speak. I believe my mind is nimbler and more flexible for what the fairies taught. I think doors have opened and veils lifted in the deep hidden recesses of mind and soul allowing meaning I might otherwise never have known.
Of all the wonders to be found in Fairyland, I loved dragons best. All girls gravitate to power, intelligence, strength and authority – not out of weakness, of course not. It’s sex pure and simple. We want those survivor genes for our babies. What could be sexier than a dragon? Beats a horse hands down and it flies. Can you imagine my delight when I discovered Pern? Not only could I fly, my dragon and I could mind meld. Ecstasy.
The longer I live the more another attribute of dragons – wisdom, has come to appeal. Dragons lead very long lives, mostly spent, from what I can gather, in long periods of brooding contemplation and observation. (For the best dragon book ever read “Dragons the Modern Infestation” by Pamela Wharton Blanpied, which delves deeply into their habits.) Dragons take their time, they mull over all the insights their quick intelligence has gathered and fit them into a birds’-eye view of the world that spreads, like Shiva’s sparkling web, around our Earth.
Even, if I don’t live long enough to get there, I’m aiming for comprehension – in all my levels of perception. Where once, dragons were my desire, they have now become mentors and guardians. But I still love to fly…