Neverland. Revisted

Oh dear sweet Peter Pan. I will never see you the same way again.

There are a few things you should know about me and Peter Pan. We have history.

When I was about 10 years old, I woke up crying. I mean, I remember having actual tears on my face..but I also remember feeling a deep sadness. It wasn't because I dreamed my family had all been kidnapped by the KGB or because I had dreamed that my teeth had all fallen out (those are the worst.) Nope, it was because in my dream I had found out that there was no such place as Neverland. There was no Peter Pan. And it (apparently) broke my heart. All I remember is waking up and feeling this vague, but deep, sense of disappointment. I remember thinking, Neverland isn't real. There is no magical place. I can't believe in Neverland, because I believe in God. God real. But there is no Neverland. My belief in God rules out the possibility for a belief in Neverland. (And apparently God is way less mysterious than Neverland?)

Fast forward a few years. The movie Peter Pan came out. Not the animated one. And definitely not that weird musical version that has a freaking woman (Mary Martin) playing the part of Peter Pan. (Seriously, who did not get the memo that Peter Pan is a boy? And supposed to fall in with and marry Wendy? Just saying. That movie was seriously disturbing to watch as a child.) But I digress. A fairly good version came out, and my older sister took me and my little sister to see it.

Before I go on, let me just say that I have always been a sensitive child. Especially when it comes to movies...and apparently movies involving animals. First, The Lion King. It killed me every time how when Simba's dad fell off Pride Rock and died, not two minutes later the movie would go right into the song "Hakuna Matata"--probably one of the darn most happy songs on the face of the planet. And there I would be, tears streaming down my face, boogers slowly dripping from my nose, and I would be thinking, Simba's dad just freaking died, and you're singing Hakuna Matata?! (Except that "freaking" wasn't a part of my vocabulary when I was 7 years old.)

There was also Milo and Otis, Free Willy, and worst of all...Andre the (freaking) Seal. Oh Andre. It even had a happy ending. But that just made it worse. I remember being at the movie theater with my family, me being in tears by the end, and my sisters telling my mom that I was crying and my mom saying, "but Lauren, it had a happy ending, why are you sad?" I even cried in Phantom of the Opera. When I was about 17. Pitiful.

But back to Peter Pan. Long story short, Peter didn't come back for Wendy. Stupid jerk. But more on that later. After seeing the movie, I kept my dignity somewhat in tact while exiting the movie theater with my sisters. And by "in tact" I mean that I walked out on my own two feet, only slightly blinded by tears streaming down my face. I spent the remainder of the day stumbling around in a daze, twitching uncontrollably, and mumbling something under my breath about Peter not going back for Wendy. (Okay, so that whole last sentence is kind of a lie...at least the part about twitching.)

But wait, hold on to your seats, dear non-existent readers, because I am about to crucify Peter Pan in my next post.