A Virtual Manifestation

by Danny Fantom 10 days ago in goals

I felt it so suddenly today, like a tightening around my lower spine; that I needed to bring to life, the desires of my heart for this physical realm.

A Virtual Manifestation
Photo by Neel on Unsplash

I write this piece, with the intention to see my manifestation in the world, and not just in the Ether behind my eyelids. To realize my desires, and set the intention to make them a reality.

I will own my home next year. I will have a house, with a yard I can plant aloe vera, basil, rosemary, lemongrass, and lavender. Where I can raise a rose bush, celosia, and sunflowers. Grow a pineapple plant perhaps, or a lemon tree. There will be medium-sized palm trees to offer shade to a terrace table. My home will have high ceilings, mostly rounded arches with the exceptions of a few necessary corners from which I can hang Boston ferns, and maybe I can spring for a Lady fern somewhere ostentatious. I'll place Chrysanthemums around doorways, and carefully place mint in hanging planters to ward off pests. They grow so fast so I'll pick some every now and then for teas or to wear in small pouches tucked away beneath my clothes for a pick-me-up.

I'll dig out a space for a pond, buy solar lanterns and place a couple around the pond to let the glow play upon the gently rippling water. I'll mutter and suck my teeth when hurricanes flood it over and create a boggy mess in the backyard. I'll remember the coconut tree in my childhood home, how it fell during a hurricane many years ago, and instead choose a Crape Myrtle tree. I'll have a little shed where rests my lawn mower, the carnage it will produce will waft up to me as sweet, fresh-cut nostalgia. A weed wacker I'll cover every bit of myself up for, and cringe while using it. A reedy little broom to sweep away clippings. There'll be pruning shears and gloves, dirty rags and a bucket or two for who knows what reason. Washing the car, scrubbing down the patio . . . There will be boxes of extra light bulbs for the floodlight that turns on with the switch of a stray's tail, and citronella torches for the summer.

My home will have too much color. A white and carmine living room, where decorations will hang for the holidays I enjoy. Movie posters and one wall dedicated solely to pictures of loved ones, and another wall only for awesome pictures of whatever suits my fancy in that particular season. A picture of trees full of jack-o-lanterns will remain all year round. Tall lamps with stained glass accents and tassels will stand amongst a crowd of candles, all the scents I could ever want. A coffee table littered with books and journals, pens of all colors, a drawing pad from Five and Below. A bookcase I painted all over will be stuffed with my books and comics, the top covered in Funko Pops. There will be a coat closet sometimes for coats, most of the time for board games and to stuff a vacuum, broom and dustpan, and mop. There will be a linen closet with not one hint of white. No white towels, no white sheets- blacks, and oranges, and purples, reds, yellows, blues, and tie-dye. Velvets, satins, cashmere, cotton. A row up top full of different lines of shampoos, conditioners, natural deodorants, and a foot massager.

The kitchen will be cornflower blue, and I may or may not add a subway tile backsplash. I'll have a purple mixer, whole plate sets in olive, black, and lovely patterns. Tervises galore, a water filter pitcher, and a breakfast bar. And an island, I've always wanted a kitchen with an island! My refrigerator will be stuffed full of sweet tea, fruits and vegetables (strawberries, pineapples, guinep, ginger, celery), Vitamin water, rocky road ice cream, and Arizona green tea cans. I'll be able to make roti anytime I want, large counter spaces to roll out the dough alongside five other cooking projects. My cabinets will be filled; lentils and butter beans, three of each spice so I never run out when I really need them, and numerous boxes of pasta. There will be Cheerios and Cocoa pebbles, strawberry wafers and rice cakes.

I'll have three different cake pans, a cookie pan, and a cupcake pan. There will always be Philadelphia cream cheese for frosting. I'll have space for all my pots and pans, some in the oven and rarely used ones in a cupboard. A brand spankin new, shiny green tea kettle will sit atop the stove, ready for earl grey or chai tea. I'll have an automatic can opener, a blender, a juicer, and all the stuff I need to make a mojito or a margarita. There will be a liquor cabinet I use to put away my drinks, no higher than my hip and locked carefully to keep out children or the greedy.

My room will have the best view in the house, a window with shrubs lining the bottom with bursts of vivid blooms, and heavy velvet curtains. The room will be in between dark orange and a tawny shade, and strings of lights will loop gently around the walls. Clear lights, christmas lights, purple lights all . . . They'll cast the strangest shadows along my possessions, tinting shadows and the crystals I'll keep at my bedside and windowsill. I'll have heaps of blankets, soft as dandelion fluff, along my bed and in a chest at the foot of it. A comfy ottoman will rest in the corner underneath a tall lamp, and on the adjacent wall a TV hangs with my beloved Kingdom Hearts ready to play. An oil diffuser gently perfumes the air, and my closet is modest but completely tailored to my truest tastes and that includes at least fifteen pairs of sweatpants. A lilac record player plays Queen's greatest hits, a crate of records at the foot of its stand. Every spray bottle and perfume I own, and many more I'll collect will rest inside a delicate, white case, every shelf near crammed full.

I will spare no expense for my bathroom, I'll break down a wall if need be. There will be a shower stall and a shiny black clawfoot tub that will look so perfect against the indigo purple walls. A circular window high enough on the wall to require a footstool will be open at all waking hours and cleaned nearly zealously by me to ensure the most clear view of every sunset and every moon, because I'm very tired of apartment bathroom fans that mess up acoustics on Wash Days. A waterfall shower head will be ready for everyday use, and wicker baskets filled with bath bombs, oils, and glittery bubble bars will rest peacefully inside of cupboards beneath the sink for harder, or better days. If I prove myself a capable enough green thumb with my lawn outside, I'll try my best to create a greenly lush bathroom like something from my most fantastic Pinterest board with vines and succulents, frothy little boxes here and there. A small, functional vanity will remain in a corner with a gaudy, old fashioned light-up mirror with rows of eyeliners and lipsticks, maybe a highlighter. Every towel will be warm to the touch from a towel warming rack in the winter, and I'll make use of the mint in the house for icy, tingly baths in the summer noons.

Maybe after a leisurely bath, I'll amble to the backyard and slump, wrapped in a fleecy blanket, onto my porch swing and listen to the cicadas gossip to each other while old, old blues songs play on low from the cracked open doors. I'll drink a vodka cranberry some nights, cups of tea on others. I'll always chide myself to drink more water. Three windchimes will click and sing in shimmery notes, and grounding clinks. Beneath my feet, a mass of fur gently shifts and drifts further into sleep, my soft-hearted gentleman of a senior puppy ever entranced by the sounds of the night. I'll think about the fall, where I'll drive as far as I need, maybe even two towns over, to the best pumpkin patch to buy four pumpkins. Two will be for practice, and the last two for realsies. If they're really good, I'll make to or three more trips to the patch and buy five more pumpkins for the wonderful luck of seven jack-o-lanterns in my yard that I can scrutinize fearfully lest they blow out before Halloween's end. I'll save the pumpkin guts of every one to make cupcakes, and cheesecake.

And I'll think back to my times of darkest self-loathing, the anxiety and hopelessness, and I'll sip my drink and think to myself "Holy shit that sucked." I'll turn around and look at what I have and make plans to take my mom and I on a trip. I'll be the one paying for a hotel room for us in Key West, and buying a pound of oysters during their happy hour to be chased by three pomegranate mojitos. We'll blow my 21st birthday out of the water with all the fun I'll take us to have, because after all the vacations she's shouldered I'll be so so happy to take care of the rest onwards.

From the bottom of my heart I want this, and vow my will and spirit will not falter to obtain this manifestation.

Danny Fantom
Danny Fantom
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Danny Fantom

Writing about the myriad of disjointed, unique interests that hit me

Voracious conversationalist, though often confused

Find me on Twitter as @ThrillandFear

See all posts by Danny Fantom