The Arcane Tower

My body was weary and my mind was hazy. I had walked for hours, not knowing where I was going or even how I got here. Before me was a huge tower, about 50 or so feet high. It was made of glass and was very smooth and cool to the touch. I looked all around for a way in, but there was none. While I walked around the tower, my head began to ache. It felt as if a heavy drum was banging against my cranium. I fell to my knees. Suddenly memories of my childhood came flooding in. Those moments with family and friends that I cherished. Christmas time, summer vacation, holidays, even ordinary days after school when my friends and I got together for sports or video games all flooded my head. No matter what I did, the memories kept flooding in. What was going on here? Why did these memories suddenly appear? What’s stranger is that they felt more real more vibrant than just simple reminiscing.

I struggled to my feet, still weary and still with a headache. I staggered away from the tower, barely able to stay on my feet. I noticed a sprawling city ahead. From where I stood, the buildings looked the same as the tower. I approached this city, becoming weaker, yet more determined than ever to reach my destination. Unfortunately, I didn’t make it. Before I could reach the worn, stone bridge leading to the city center, I collapsed on the hard cold pavement. A loud thud was the last thing I heard.

I awoke in a daze. The room was spinning and I was unable to view my surroundings. My head also pounded like a heavy drum. This lasted for about 2 to 3 minutes. I looked around the tiny room I was in. The pink carpet, the pink wallpaper and the stuffed animals on the shelves along the walls indicated I was in a little girl’s room. I had no idea where I was or how I got here. I left the room and looked down the long corridor ahead of me. It was warm, well-lit and the walls were freshly painted in a light blue color. I tried to remember where I had seen this before, but I could not. I began to walk down the corridor.

As I continued to walk down the corridor, I noticed white and black windows on either side of me. I opened a white window and peered inside. I saw myself with my first babysitter, Miss Molly. I was with her and the other children she cared for. I remembered like it was yesterday. I could never shake the vision of that pretty red dress she wore and how she would treat each of us as her own child. A sentimental tear fell down my cheek as I remembered her and wondered where she might be today. I looked at this for a while. It felt very strange seeing ‘me’ there, but it also felt good to see something beautiful, something positive. I closed the window and headed towards the black window across the hall. I opened it was well. This memory was a colder and darker time in my life. While it wasn’t tragic, it was sad. A close friend of mine moved away and I now had to cope with not being able to go to school or play football with him. He’d been in the neighborhood for a long time and now he was gone. This was very sad. I watched only for a short moment. A tear of sadness rolled down my cheek. I closed the door and continued on.

As I walked, I noticed that there were more white windows than black ones. I reasoned that the white windows meant pleasant memories and the black ones meant sad or unpleasant ones. I tested this theory again by opening two more white windows and two more black windows. The theory held.

Additionally, as I advanced forward in the hallway, the memories of my life showed me as an older boy, then a teenager, and finally, a young man. To see one’s life story this way was very new to me, but also convenient. I could go back to any window or ahead to any window to see how my life was and use those memories and events to determine how I want to live my life today. This was how I saw it, but there was more to this tower than meets the eye. I would soon find out as I walked up the stairway at the end of the corridor.

The remained of the tower contained doors on either side of the corridor. There were 6 on each side. Each door had the name of a month written on them. I didn’t understand what this meant, at least, not until I entered them. They were the months of my life, from January to December. The second floor showcased the first 5 years of my life. However, there was more. These memories were totally interactive. I could relive the memories of my early childhood years, from January to December. I entered each door, reliving my life from infant age to 5. It felt very real; the love and nurturing I felt from my mom and dad, from those who visited us was just as real as it was when it actually happened. After reliving these memories, I returned to the corridor and walked upstairs to the next floor. It was the same layout.

Each floor did have the same 12 doors, 6 on each side, however, the higher I went, the older I was in the memories, in increments of 5 years. The second floor contained my memories from when I was aged 6-10; the third floor contained my memories from when I was 11-15 and so on, all the way up until my current age of 40. That meant this tower had 8 floors and I was determined to explore each one, to relive my past and relish in the most pleasant times in my life.

I meticulously spent a copious amount of time in each room, not only reliving my past, but making note to study how my life changed the older I got. I was very happy in my childhood, and even my early adulthood, at the time I was in college. However, things got colder and more distant as I got into the real world. I noticed that I didn’t spend that much time in these rooms. They weren’t tragic, but they were sad and lonely. All the friends and contacts that I made in my early life seemed to disappear. Phone calls were unreturned, emails were unanswered, and there was no one else I could find to even go out or hang out with me. I thought to myself as I walked the corridor of the 8th floor, “Growing up sure is overrated.”

I didn’t bother to remain on the upper levels. They were way too sad, too lonely, and too frustrating to even give them another look. I returned to the lower levels, to those gateways to my more pleasant memories. As I relived these early and middle childhood memories, I learned something about myself just then, but not just about myself, about the world in general. I thoroughly enjoyed my childhood. I enjoyed it because people were nice; I enjoyed it because my family and friends were always there for me and treated me well. I wasn’t impoverished, nor did I want for anything. There were smiles, warmth, comfort, and compassion. However, as I moved from childhood into adulthood, and into the real world, these sentiments faded. I realized how I missed the warmth and comfort of family and friends. When you grow up, people smile less at you and they don’t treat you as gently. Perhaps this was just me. One thing was for sure. I didn’t like it. I wanted to go back to a time when I was surrounded by love. I spent countless hours in the lower levels of the tower.

I thought back to when I was outside the tower. The memories of my childhood came flooding in. Perhaps it was because those were the most pleasant memories of my life. For some, it may be their adulthood years that are most memorable and for others, it is their teenage years. Some older people may enjoy their retirement years the best. It is as individual as the people themselves. I realized that. I felt so good reliving my childhood memories over and over again. I was making up for all the love and nurturing in my life I had missed. Sure, it may not have been healthy, but I realized that the world itself, at least, to me, had gone downhill. People were more miserable; no one hardly smile or spoke, some people became hostile and combative, and the amount of love, joy, and respect seemed to dwindle to almost nothing. This downward spiral happened in under 30 years. What would it be like in 40 years? In 50 years? I wondered. I continued my journey through the lower levels of the tower. It may have been a fantasy world, but to me, it was reality. It was my reality. It was the world I knew, my personal world.

What would you do? Live in a fantasy or stand up and face reality? I have no problem with facing reality, but if reality is just too hard to bear or is unfair, what else is there? Life is to be enjoyed and if the real world doesn’t allow for that, then there is little choice in the matter. I continued to live in the tower and I had everything and everyone I would ever need for the rest of my life.


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