So last night I dreamed that I was reading this book of Neil Gaiman’s I’d never heard of before. It wasn’t out yet, so the pages were black with white print, instead of white with black print. After a while I realized that I had a large stack of these books with black pages, and they were all by Neil Gaiman. IT WAS AMAZING.
And I’m reading a book of C.S. Lewis’s essays, and he said this:
[A reader] does not despise real woods because he has read of enchanted woods: the reading makes all real woods a little enchanted.
Oh, it’s so true! That’s completely true, and pleases me infinitely because it describes my relationship with C.S. Lewis (and other fantasy writers as well) perfectly. I can’t see a lamp-post without thinking that maybe I’ve walked into Narnia accidentally.
Oh, and also? We inaugurated our first black President, and it was amazing.