There are days when I feel a lot like Sarah near the end of Labyrinth, only as the clock ticks inexorably towards thirteen, I cannot seem to find release from Jareth's paradoxical demands. It is a dream world, to be sure, but whatever elements are drawn from my mind/desire/will are hopelessly altered into something foreign to me. Fantasy cannot be too divorced from reality lest it turn unconvincing and unappealing.
I mean c'mon... no one really wants to see me pretending to be a teenage girl in a long gown, right?
