Chapter 3: The Gallery of Dreams
Chapter 3: The Gallery of Dreams
Intro:
The train to Edinburgh roared past fields and rivers, carrying Jamie toward something bigger than he could fully understand. His sketchbook rested on his lap, but his imagination soared ahead, already painting what the future might hold.
Story:
Edinburgh was louder, taller, and more colorful than anything Jamie had seen. The streets were bustling with people in bright coats and buses that hissed past as he clung to his mother’s hand.
At the National Youth Gallery, a crowd had gathered. Parents, teachers, and artists buzzed in the wide marble halls. Jamie felt small, but Miss Harper’s words echoed in his mind: “The world needs your magic.”
Inside, each finalist had a section with their artwork displayed under soft lights. Jamie’s piece hung on a wide gray wall—his imagined bird soaring above the sea and hills of Elsridge, its feathers made of patchwork skies.
A small card beneath read:
“Wings Over Elsridge” – Jamie MacLeod, Age 10, Elsridge Primary
People stopped to look. A woman in a red scarf even took a photo. A man in a suit asked Jamie, “Did you really draw this all by yourself?”
Jamie nodded, too shy to speak.
The awards ceremony followed. Jamie didn’t win the top prize—that went to a girl who painted a storm from memory. But when the judge handed out the “Imagination in Motion” award, he called Jamie’s name.
“For reminding us that dreams can fly beyond the boundaries of what we see.”
Jamie stepped onto the stage. His hands trembled as he accepted the small glass trophy. The crowd clapped. His mother wept.
After the ceremony, a curator from the Royal Art School approached them.
“Jamie,” she said, “we’d like to invite you to a summer program for gifted young artists. Full scholarship. You belong in places like this.”
For the first time, Jamie looked someone in the eye and smiled without fear.
Outro:
Back in Elsridge, Jamie placed the trophy beside his window. Every morning, he sketched as the sun lit up the sea. He still didn’t speak much, but his drawings spoke louder than words ever could. And every page he filled was another step in painting a life beyond the lines others had drawn for him.