The light. Aethereal and pure shines in through eight octagonal casements that line the crest of the large somewhat translucent dome. The casements appear to be made of sheer cut diamond; many angles and faces to allow the odd luminance to reflect and refract against the silver moonstone creating a rainbow over the canvas of the opera house. The stage; a hot flush of ruby red; the inner circle bathed in a gentle orange glow; the stage curtains a vibrant shade of summer yellow; the orchestral pit, an envious shade of light green; the dress circle swimming in a cool periwinkle blue shadow; the balcony a melancholy pallet of indigos; the Gods embedded in a strong shade of violet – a herald to the heavens.
As I will step across the threshold between the black carpet of the marble entrance and the cut glassy floor of the main theatre ahead of me, I will see the flushed stage, an oval, with a natural spotlight upon the center. A halo. Beneath its glory a man. Untouched by his surroundings. Seemingly pale in the seral light. I will stop. With a tiny crystal vile in one hand gracefully raised up to the sky he will close his electric blue eyes as if marking time. The vile will be pointed towards the central and largest of the thin octagonal casements. He will open his mouth and words in a language unknown will emanate all around this strange structure.
Retrieving the now full vile towards his face he will part his phantasmal lips once more. Eyes closed. He will step towards a violet chase lounge releasing the vile as he does so - allowing it to shatter onto the transparent floor though no sound will ensue. Spellbound, he will lay himself down gently upon it. He will begin to become oddly pellucid. Like nothing I will have ever seen before. In my mind, a dream, a scenewill begin to form; the man upon the stage, awakened and leading me with a spectral hand to a huge wrought iron door, unlocking it with his otherworldly touch.
The stars. Beautiful and bright. Gleaming and innocent. All knowing all seeing. They seem to move in an order in the otherwise uncorrupted inky blackness of the sky. Something changes. The man's eyes will open. As will mine. Returningto the theatre, I will quickly clutch one of the velvet seas of the audience to stay standing.
"Hello, my dear" he will say. I will stand still, still a little in shock. "I won't hear you enter, you must be very soft indeed to get past me. I see everything." He will continue "What will happen?" i will whisper "I will just be rehearsing what will be my most famous dream; constellation one as some will call it. The first dream I will ever catch," "What will this place be? I will be told I will be coming to a school..." I will say. "Indeed, my dear. I will know you will come. This will be a school of sorts. What will I look like to you?". He won't give me time to interject. "Welcome to The Operahouse. Here we will perform dreams and other curiosities. All will become clear as you learn; we will be the story tellers of life, the dreamers of dreams, the walkers of nightmares. How wonderful it will be to meet you.". what this will mean remains unclear.
One thing will be clear: The world will be behind me; my life will wait ahead.