The Illustrated Encyclopedia of an Imaginary Universe

It wasn’t too long before I was in Oregon’s flatlands, if they could be described as such.

Portland itself was actually a beautiful city. On the sides of the northern highway were patches of bright yellow flowers so fragrant I could easily smell them within the confines of the truck. Passing over a great, tall bridge that spans a wide, deep river, was marred only by stop-and-go traffic. The weather was terrific and people were out on the water and along the walkways that hugged the river to either side.

As I was descending this bridge very slowly, I noticed another, smaller bridge below on which a great number of people had gathered. I wasn’t certain if it was some sort of temporary arrangement for a festival perhaps, or if the bridge was forever closed to vehicular traffic and made available only for people who want to mill about and admire this stretch of deep blue water that cut the living grey city in half.

As I drove closer to my destination, I admired the things I had seen on this trip, even if it was one of the most uneventful trips I had ever taken. It was a peaceful journey. I had seen great mountains, deep valleys, and beautiful starry nights. I have now seen my first volcano and laid eyes on the most majestic of peaks: Mount Rainier.

As the evening wore on, we finally arrived. The storming of my new home was beautiful indeed and I timed it perfectly with appropriate music. The city seemed shielded from the rest of the world by a great hill, which seems to form a southern wall of sorts. The highway skirted alone the hill’s southern slope, edging it’s way westward as I continued on my northerly course. Then we crested a great hill and as I came down, I saw a lovely valley in which the city itself stood, towers gleaming in the sun.

Taking a right course, to the east again, we descended through a tunnel that bored its way directly through that shielding wall, and then burst out onto the lake itself, where I saw my home, both old and new, directly before me. The highway was taking me there. The day’s journey was over and I couldn’t hold back my excitement and adrenaline. Here it feels I am protected from everything, encircled by my protective wall to the south and the lake waters that lay to the north. A single artery connects me to the rest of the world, cutting through the top of the island. Two escape routes, one to the east and one to the west.

I had finally come home. The feeling of destiny was so ripe, I almost felt nauseous. I felt like my world had suddenly spun out of my grasp, away from my realm of control, and into someone else’s story. Where I had so gleefully written my own tale, I know felt like the character in someone else’s book.

Something, or someone, is here.

I will find it.