Welcome to the Mirth.
Here is an enchanted forest marked heavily with thousands of trees and thick vine on its border. The barrier looks almost ominous. Vines hanging low and limp, trees reigning tall and strong, and both tightly packed together sitting below a dark and cloudy sky. What waits beyond that haunting chunk of nature is the magical place of Mirth. Beyond that bulky barrier is a widely spaced, sunny, and quite busy, village of at least a thousand or so persons. Houses and small marble villas are built into the sides of large mountains; creating a large path that stretches far ahead and in between those homes lay strips of small businesses and activity centers. The sun is shining, but your eyes do not burn at its glare. You look up to see a grand palace perched at the very end of village. This place looks nothing like the outside presumed it to be. Curious, you climb up the ample and bumpy dark brown street way and gaze at your surroundings. The villas lined along the sides are made up of the same material but have different decorative styles. Some are a mix of sophisticated whites and silvers. Others are louder with a blend of yellows, reds, greens, and blues. Each door left wide-open or unlocked holds a different well-carved symbol among the vibrant walls of its complex. The many windows indicate that its people share these outsized marvelous homes.
There is a great white luminous fountain in the center of this town that small children run their fingers through, men lifting heavy things drink from, and older women chat happily in front of. You take a deep breath and smell a combination of vital flowers and rich soil. In the near distance is the sound of rushing waters and sweet melodies. The people of this mysterious land smile and nod their heads at you as you walk by, each not knowing your name, who you are, and what you're there for. You feel at home without knowing a single identity. You notice that all the young women and men are busy caring things or tending to another's needs. The elderly are sitting down on stone steps with a book or two in their hands and a mouth full of words. They teach and they preach to the children of Mirth. You continue your stroll until you make it to the grand palace stairs. They are white as chalk, but not the least bit dusty. A young woman comes to greet you at the top. Her hair is long and sways like black waves along her back, her eyes are piercingly green and her skin is as pale as the moon. Head topped with a small silver crown of some kind, you deduce that she must be the Princess of this heavenly land. You ready yourself to kneel, but she stops you. Looking up at her you notice she is smiling warmly. Befuddled, you raise yourself and in return the young woman bows to you.
She puts her hand on your shoulders and you turn around to face the people of Mirth. Everyone stares at you and smiles seemingly fascinated with your presence. You smile timidly yourself, not use to such attention. You look into everyone's eyes, which range from blue to purple and to red. Their eyes are honest, you can see. The villagers close their eyes briefly and they all bow in unison. Your heart flutters as you realize this is their invitation to you from them. They have all united to greet and meet one person. After a few moments of silence the people break and continue whatever task they were doing beforehand. Their faces stay calm and supple, even when they do not smile outright. Behind the crowd, a young lady, at least 14 years old, helps an elderly man up the steps to his home. A few yards away a child is learning about the great philosophies of people he will never meet. And just a few feet away from where he sits, a man and woman coo and coddle their infant as if he was the only gem in the world. In between these acts of goodness are people fulfilling everyday tasks such as preparing food, transporting good, painting pictures of loving faces, playing music and reciting poetry to anyone willing to listen.
You could conclude that this place is more than just peaceful. It is unique in its ability to live without fear that you are there to hurt them and even more unique for dropping their daily tasks to make you, a stranger, feel as if you belonged.
The Princess speaks. You jump slightly as you had forgotten her highness was there. She only grins at your reaction. The young maiden takes both your hands into hers and says:
"Welcome home." One long, slender arm extends in front of her and is directed at the serene sight of the passive, jovial village. You smile and you join.
Based on a dream I had once. It actually creeps me out a little bit when I read it back, but when I dreamed it I felt serene joy and didn't want to wake up.