a natural sister

I never felt obliged to discuss my earliest connections to the madness of creative spark. I only know that from an early age I was dreaming nonstop of things that didn't exist in my everyday world. I remember rain drops and puddles and long gutter streams becoming oceans of fun with makeshift vessels in hand. We romped every part of the street looking for new bodies of water to be our sea. In these springs, I remember very vividly the feeling of newness. The smell of spring, water and dirt and the warmth sneaking into the old winter air. I remembered the first opening of a window or clap of thunder. All of these things enhanced my wishes to dream more. Books provided windows as well. I remembered illustrations of lush front gardens guarded by iron gates. Mysterious old houses and strange statues. I lived in these wild worlds in my mind as a kid and so the outside world and the inside world became one. I loved the images of the mundane streets as I suddenly would turn them into boardwalks or at night, in the fog, they would become streets in London. I've never been to London but I've been to my version of it. I would come up with scares that didn't exist. Here it is. My magick was my spark and one person who put early imagination in motion was my sister. Being older, she introduced me to strange stories and writings and so as a youngster these dreams and images became real to me. She brought to life Halloween. She would tell me delightfully strange stories as a twist on ones she had read. All of this got my mind seeking and stretching reality, kinda like playing with clay.