The Search for Magic in Dreams (A Disney Story)

8) What Is There Left to Me

Fantasy and reality often overlap.       -Walt Disney

Brendan woke with a start, not really leaping out of his bed. It was more like a sudden shock then an explosive awakening. His head was still resting on his pillow and his back fitting nicely under the sheets of his bed. When he recognized the familiar ceiling, he realized that all he had been seeing was only a dream, nothing more. "Ugh..." he groaned, "what a bizarre dream." He turned to the right side of his bed and found his phone on the nightstand on the side. He picked it up and saw that the time was 10:16 in the morning. He sighed softly to himself that he had slept for a little over 11 hours. He pulled himself out of bed and across the hall to the bathroom to freshen up. A sudden chill shook through him as he threw water in his face, making him more awake. He opened his eyes to see the water dripping off if face, almost looking line a man being beaten by tears or a hard rain. Some of the messy locks in his hair loosened and drowned down to cling to his forehead. He looked at himself for a moment, thinking about what had happened, then grabbed the towel.

After getting dressed, he went back into the kitchen and living area to find the mess he had made the previous night. Glass was shattered everywhere on the floor, plaster painted across some of the furniture from the dents in the walls, and sheets of paper all scattered about dismally. Again, he sighs, knowing that he'll have to pick it up, which he does right away. He doesn't like the idea of looking at his home in ruins. At least, in his mind, it will be one part of his life that seems intact. He started with many of the larger pieces, that way he could have room to sweep away all the debris. Once the large pieces had been picked up, he retrieved a broom and dustpan to pick up the specs of plaster and shards of glass. By the time he compiled it all, it had turned into a little hill on the floor; little dust clouds forming above the ground with every sweep. He picked up the pile and threw it away continued sorting through the photos that were contained in the picture frames that had shattered.He came across many that preserved memories that he remembered fondly. Emotions started to form in his chest, and in turn, make him feel a strange urge to release them.

So long ago were these events, during a time my life was content. When my dreams and wishes were within my reach. But now I must face the truth, that my youth may be the happiest I'll ever be. I can't help but ask myself, what is there left to me.

He went along going through mementos of his past, and soon found a few photos of him, Frank, and their father when he was in seventh grade. A Christmas tree could be seen in the back and his father was wearing a Santa hat and warm holiday sweater. Smiles were on everyone's face as a young Brendan unwrapped a present with a shocked expression.

Here, a happy three, growing strong 'til I was twenty-three. We used to play and laugh and fight, but I would never want to perish the thought of all that was bright. Now I must save all that is left with me, and if he goes, what is there left to me.

He threw the pictures onto the couch and went on to the rest of the stuff on the floor. His activity caught some attention from his back door, gaining interest as he walked back and forth around his apartment.

He paused again, this time gazing at one of the last pieces he ever worked on in college. It was an idea that sparked in his mind while being fascinated with eastern European architecture and design. He had put his own artist eye to the task of creating something similar, even if it meant that he would never see it be realized. The sketch was of the interior of a high-class gallery and grand hall in which people could gather and interact, decorated with brass and glass pieces all around. He remembered how much of his free time this took up to bring to life. He could even see the lingering eraser marks from when he thought a pencil stroke didn't fit the scale or proportion of his vision.