I sometimes remember what the world looked like when I was young. Back when the world made sense from every angle. I remember how light fixtures were strange alien tables in the center of the room and stairs up to a second floor could just as easily be a slide down to a basement. You had to climb over small fences in doorways because the doors were up near the roof. And your bed was a dark wooden hammock hung tight to the carpeted ceiling, and it was filled with all of your favorite toys, and the occasional dust bunny or mouse.
I can remember being there, but I can’t remember the day I left it. I don’t remember the moment I rolled my head back over with my chin anchored sensibly to my chest and I looked at the righted the world and said, “This one. This world is the correct one. Yes, there is no other world.” and then I never went back again.
I’m afraid I had forgotten that the other world even existed until Lydia showed it to me again, as she flew there on her catapult in the clouds. Stay as long as you wish, my little girl. Please, for our sake. Stay there forever.