Now that I'm done with this story I can say that though it took a long time to get it up here I'm glad I posted it. I'm not sure how many people will actually read it especially since it's so long but I suppose it doesn't matter at this point. Posting the story was all about me experimenting with my own comfort level. As I mentioned before, this story is a very personal one and one which I wouldn't have considered putting up for others to read two years ago.
I'm still not 100% sure what the story is about but it might have something to do with being Lost and Found. I've always been interested in the idea of losing everything and then getting it all back in the end after a difficult journey. The journey is the thing, of course, but there's nothing wrong with bringing it all back home with you. The interesting thing is my imaginary world has changed, and clearly there are things that this story is trying to tell me. I just need to learn what they are.
The Epilogue after I wrote “The Coda” was about the arduous journey and making your way home. This is something a little different and more monumental. Precious characters were lost and found, stayed and left, and some were lost forever. I was surprised while writing this story since almost everything was unfolding as I was writing it down.
Central to this story is Mr. Gryphon, of course, and losing him and getting him back. When I first started the story I was completely freaked out that my best imaginary friend had been killed. I didn't know what to make of it but I did know the story would be about the journey of getting him back. Who is Mr. Gryphon? He's me, of course, though sometimes I think of him as my ideal partner or what my ideal partner could be like.
Nick is based on a real person who might have looked out for me in real life for a time. I haven't seen him in a while and wonder how he is. I hope he's doing well. The chapter where I was in the bubble mirror traveling from the White Tower in Dis to the church was inspired by a mini-crisis I inflicted upon myself last summer. I originally wrote some of my tender feelings into the story but had to delete them as they were too close to the truth.
The church is a real church in New York City on Lexington Avenue. I visited the church during one of my solitary trips. When I walked into the place the silence was so heavy that I felt like I'd been transported to a different plane. It felt really unearthly. There were only two other people in the church at the time.
The little old man with the clear blue eyes was a man I talked to briefly while in the Church of Sts. Peter and Paul in North Beach. I blogged about him in my post about my walk through that neighborhood.
There's more, I suppose, but I think I will stop here. Thanks again for reading. It's much appreciated.