I believe in dreams. Not necessarily the kind of involuntary, subconscious adventures we embark upon during sleep, but rather a conscious fabrication of our desires; a fantasy. The kind of fantasy where anything is possible and the only limits are that of your imagination. The kind of fantasy in which the princess goes on a backpacking trip across Europe when she finally gets herself out of that infernal tower. The kind of fantasy in which Rumplestiltskin decides to adopt a cat to keep him company when he loses the baby he wanted so desperately. The kind of fantasy in which the hero of every story can be me.

The best thing about fantasies is that I can decide how the story will end. I believe that this same philosophy can be used in life. While life is certainly not a fantasy, it is possible to be responsible of my own destiny. Some may believe that everything happens for a reason, and karma (good or bad) has a way of making things even in the end; but I disagree. Sometimes terrible experiences smash into our stories, leaving the pages charred by the fiery breath of a dragon; and these experiences are often just bad luck. But dragons can be defeated. Heroes do it everyday. Whether my dragon is illness, or pain, or fear--sometimes I have to get burned before I can conquer the beast all together. I came across this philosophy as a child. I read constantly, and when I wasn’t reading I was acting out my favorite scenes from books. After a while I began to notice a pattern in my favorite stories. The princess was all long blonde hair and ladylike manners, and she was always saved by the dashing prince in tights. Now, I was a kid with dark brown hair cut short because I chopped it off in the middle of the night, and I was raised with my parents telling me I could do anything I set my mind to. Even as a child I found something unrealistic about the skin deep beauty of these fairytale princesses that all meet the same fate. So I soon began to create my own stories. Mind you, I never stopped reading the old ones, I was too attached, but I did start weaving my own adventures, that ended differently the each time. My stories had two things in common; tragedy always struck, but the story’s brave main character always ended up on the other side of the garden wall, out of the dragon's clutches, or graduating from medical school. In other words, the elusive and tirelessly sought after “happily ever after” was found.

My stories and fantasies were shining gems full of promise that I carried with me always. I loved my fantasies dearly, and ideas for new ones were always swirling around me like snowflakes, each one melting on my tongue leaving behind only the sweet trace of a fairytale. I kept in mind that I was the hero of my own story, and that I could be anything I wanted in life. In this life, everyone suffers, some more than others, and when I was young I was pricked by countless spindles and venomous thorns, but my fairytales inspired me to fight sleep and suck out the poison, until the chapter was finished and all foes were vanquished. I understand now that there is no way of controlling the other characters, and no matter what, I will always have to face my hardships, but it is up to me whether I lay down at the dragon's feet, or brandish my sword and fight bravely until I defeat the beast. When all is said and done, I may not have much say in how I go in the the world, but I can decide how I go out. I can write my own story, at birth I was given the key to the kingdom, and oh what a joy it is to watch it turn so easily in my hands. I have the power to write my own story, and to pen my own ending, with a certainty intended by fate. I believe in fantasies, because I believe that I have the right to my story, and a right to my own ending, happily ever after.