When I was a child, I met a dragon face to face. I bounced on clouds for hours, I was introduced to friendly pirates, I went on several expeditions to the Moon. I’ve seen the world, I’ve been faced with evil, I’ve met people just like me, all within the comfort of my bedroom.

When I read, anything and everything is possible. Wondering what will happen next, connecting to my own life, inferencing when and how the plot will change, I get lost in the constantly moving current in my head.

The typical scenario of sitting in front of a crackling fire and sipping on scorching hot tea while one submerges him or herself into literature, just won't work. When I read, I need bright lighting, or else I will doze off and the fantasy in my head may become a dream of my slumber. Comfortably sitting up in my bed is preferred however it is impossible if the story does not spark my interest. If I find myself disinterested, I have to plant myself at my desk and power through the material.

If however, the book entices me, often a movie begins to play in my head. I can see the rolling landscape, I can feel the firm handshake of a new character, I can smell the muggy summer air. For these fleeting moments, I am brought out of the real world and into a world of temporary laughter, tears, or anything in between. For these moments, and these moments only, I am transported.

The book shuts, and out I come. No longer am I wearing a cape, no longer am I friends with the Queen, no longer am I protected by the bindings of the book. I am just in my chair or on my bed. I am just a human, and nothing has changed. I’ll glance back at the book, remembering what I’ve learned, remembering that the story is within me. I’ll always have my experience as a child, meeting that dragon face to face.