“I had dreams—wonderful visions—” She pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes. “I saw bronze rivers lapping marble shores, and great birds that soared through the air, parti-colored birds with iridescent plumage. I heard strange music and the flare of barbaric trumpets—what?”

Amory had snickered.

“What, Amory?”

“I said go on, Beatrice.”

“That was all—it merely recurred and recurred—gardens that flaunted coloring against which this would be quite dull, moons that whirled and swayed, paler than winter moons, more golden than harvest moons—”

“Are you quite well now, Beatrice?

“Quite well—as well as I will ever be. I am not understood, Amory. I know that I can’t express it to you, Amory, but—I am not understood.”

Amory was quite moved. He put his arm around his mother, rubbing his head gently against her shoulder.

From “This Side of Paradise” by Francis Scott Fitzgerald

            Fitzgerald’s description of Beatrice’s dreams reveals a world full of wonders. The world’s marvels dwell inside us. We don’t have to go too far to experience the most amazing beauty.  “Illusions, magic, pseudo-hallucinations, and verisimilar experiences merge into the wonderland of dreams, where fact and fancy fuse in a surreal world. There, we retain our innocence, and we think, feel, and behave like children.”

            From my book, “The Stranger’s Enigma,” which will be published early next month.