I want to be the crazy aunt with a slide from the second story to the first. The aunt whose front door is round and painted green and has a gold doorknob in the exact middle. Whose wardrobe has a secret panel leading to the playroom, whose blue door opens into a hallway, whose walls are painted with the maps of fantasy worlds. I want to be that crazy lady with tiny statues hidden in the garden, glass unicorns in the windows, fairy houses in the yard. I want a room under the staircase, with the first chapter of Harry Potter written on the wall. I want a room with armor and weapons covering one wall, a closet filled with fancy dress, a second wall covered with LEGO so they can build off it, a third wall that is nothing but window, and a fourth wall with trees painted on it.
I want a gigantic house with many, many secret passages and a huge pool with a waterfall and hanging seats and ten acres covered with trees and with a private brook that has no less than three bridges. It needs a log bridge, stepping stones, and a classic arched bridge.
I don't think this is a particularly realistic wish list. But it needs to be written out. Because that house? That house would be the most magical place to visit. To live in. To hold tea parties and duels and stay up late watching Disney and reading books.
Realistically, I'll wind up in a tiny apartment, with beige walls and decent dish ware. Realistically, any project like a fandom house would require my (presumed future) husband's agreement.
But unrealistically...among the mental stars and galaxies of my imagination...I have a giant house.
Realistically, practically, right now, I can create minor fandom pockets. I am going to paint the Tree of Gondor on my bedroom wall. I will collect all fantasy books that steal my heart. I will teach my niece and nephews to recognize a TARDIS by sight, and I will read to them the Chronicles of Narnia and The Hobbit. And I will dream of a giant house.
