As children all we have dreams. As infants we lack income, property, and choice and we are fragile and slow to grow compared to the rest of the natural world. As soon as we achieve enough independence to think and wander on our own, society dictates we get an education, attend church or temple, or at least recognize a higher power. Unable to chart our own course, dreams are all that remain.
When I was a child, daydreaming was a sin. A protestant farming community expects the children to contribute. I suppose it is better than the alternative; running and hiding from predators. Never mind that the daydreamers created the civilization and society that now shunned them.
I was a rebel. I daydreamed at every opportunity. A simple garden stake became a great overland vehicle that brought technology and hope to a post-apapolptic world. A broken frisbee became an orbital platform where the wise retreated from a barbaric horde. A left over sheet of parchment paper became a map to a world where men transformed themselves into dragons and forbid you to love.
I had many seeds to my daydreams. Stephen R. Donaldson was one who fed my imagination with his anti-hero Thomas Covenant. Like Covenant, I did not belong to the small puritanical community where I lived. When I didn’t—or couldn’t—participate in the activities the community considered important, they called me a faggot, threatened, and beat me. I had a refrain that saved me; Be true.