ORIGINS: It’s small, but it’s there. In the original series, the swan-handed girl in the seventh character’s prop has an anemone that looks like a lion in her hair. And since we didn’t want our lion to feel lonely, we decided to add dandelions to the mix.
I am tired of being a dandelion, and losing parts of myself every time I blow my wishes far away. I like my mane, even if it can’t help longing for more. I don’t want to take the wind’s name for myself. I don’t want to turn into a sea anemone, even if they are the only ones that can take their words back and swallow them whole, before their wish disappoints them by not coming true. I don’t want to, because there would be no point. Devouring those wishes that have already been put into words won’t undo the damage. The parts I have lost will never come back, and I will never go back to being whole.
One. Two. Three. Four. Even if one day the sun refuses to rise, I know that I will never run out of wishes. Because I am a lion, and all I need is a horizon. Once, not that long ago, my heart flatlined and it seemed like nothing would elicit a response from me ever again. The lion found me then, and chose to share my name. I don’t call him Hope, because that name belongs to lights in the dark. What keeps me here, sunrise after sunrise, are those dandelion wishes that make my heart beat wanting more, more, more, out of life. And it doesn’t matter if there is no wind to take them from my mouth and make them come true. Being able to wish is more than enough, to keep me from closing my eyes and stopping time.
My mind isn’t a universe. It’s a field of dandelions, ready and eager to be blown far, far away. Out of that white emptiness where words, intentions and wishes don’t amount to anything, because the lion isn’t brave enough to open his eyes. To stop shining, and act. But I can’t put all the blame on him. I have breath inside my lungs too. It never feels like there’s enough, but I could blow those dandelions myself, without relying on anyone else. I could open my mouth, and say something. Anything. But the wind died down a while ago. And there is no one I can hand my wishes on to. Not on this side.
Do you know why dandelions are perfect for making wishes? It’s because lions are lazy. As lazy as those who close their eyes and entrust their wishes to the wind. But at least everyone knows the score, and there are no hard feelings when the wind chooses to have a lazy day too and none of those wishes ever come true.
If dandelions are wishes, the wind is the one that decides whether they come true or not. If you were a lion, wouldn’t that make you feel powerless too? My lions wanted to have a say, that is why they dove to the bottom of the sea. To become anemones. To become a wind unto themselves, and free their wishes from other people’s mercy.
I wanted to feel good about myself. I wanted to be generous and loving, and grant someone else’s wish for a change. I dove into the sea, thinking that in a place where drops didn’t exist, I would be able to forget about myself, surrounded by something larger than life. But it didn’t work. I became an anemone, sure, but I didn’t lose a single hair. The wind remained attached to my head, just like the wishes inside my heart. That heart that still has no room for anyone else.
For the longest time I didn’t understand why dandelions were called that. I didn’t see anything that remotely resembled teeth. I didn’t see yellow sunrays; I only had eyes for that white thing wishes are made of. And then it didn’t matter, because I grew up. I lost all the teeth that mattered, and fake smiles replaced every childish wish I had ever had. I found myself underwater, relearning how to breathe. How to hold on to the wind, so that no one would be able to take it out of my sails. I became an anemone in a coral reef. I surrounded myself with sharp things that resembled teeth. Because I promised the child I had once been that I wouldn’t end shipwrecked.
The wind is sleeping. Don’t wake it up. The lions have finally forgotten their wishes, let them rest in peace. Don’t scream. Your wish came true, and you feel trapped. It isn’t how you thought it would be; it never is. But my lions have finally gone to sleep, to a place free of dreams, and I would be grateful if you could keep your screams to yourself.