December 11, 2008 in dreamland
When I was little, I used to have to be told bedtime stories. It was my Dad’s job. Sometimes he would read me a chapter of The Hobbit or The Narnia Chronicles but mostly he would tell me Frances stories. (I only recently realised that Frances was called Frances because I was Fran, but that’s another matter.) Frances had a normal life, most of the time. But some nights she would fetch her magic cape from under the bed, jump out of her window, and fly three times round the moon to another world. And on some mornings she would leave her nice white house through the blue door, down the path to the green gate, and walk through the woods to school. And the sun would shine down through the leaves and make beautiful patterns on the forest floor. And on her way she would come across a mirror. She’d put her right hand to the mirror… and it would disappear. She’d put her left hand through, and it would disappear, and then so would her left leg, and eventually, her whole self would be through the mirror and she’d be in another world.
Sometimes she would be in a sort of sea-world, were she was a mermaid and played with her friend Kaylie. Once she was in Italy and had to single-handedly keep the Tower of Piza from falling on her other friend, a champion wrestler. Most of the time she was trying to escape from her nemesis, The Black Blob, who lived in a cage made of children’s bones. The Black Blob liked to nail children through their wrists and ankles to a table with rusty nails, and then tear them open and eat them from the tummy outwards.
I loved those stories. Frances always saved the day.
Anyway, when I saw this picture by Dirk Rees it really reminded me of that magic mirror:
I also love this by him, because it makes me want to be a boxer:
And I love this, for no particular reason: