"Hold on, Figment," the old man requested.
"Why???" the inquisitive purple dragon asked, exasperated.
"The idea bag is full," his creator explained.
"It is? Let's start making new things!"
"Now wait," the gentlemen chuckled. "First we must store these ideas with the others in the Dreamport."
"Are we almost there?" the purple dragon asked as he turned his head to scan the room.
"Oh, the Dreamport is never far away when you use your imagination!"
"Come on, everybody, here we go!" the infant winged lizard excitedly yelled as the dirigible started moving to the left.
The man pedaling the blimp and his created reptilian child began singing about using imagination and how a little spark of it can light up new ideas. The ride vehicles continued into the next room carrying excited guests into a world where imagination brings color to abstract ideas that were otherwise seen as being either black or white.
The blimp drifted back to its starting point where the ride vehicles entered the circular chamber, the turntable at the center of the room coming to a stop.
In a remote room beneath the crystal pyramids, a cast member watched the different screens showing the black-and-white video feeds from throughout the attraction. He waited until the last vehicles reached the unload area, dumping guests who excitedly run to the ImageWorks playground, a land of singing light, rainbow bridges, and crystal pyramids overlooking the Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow.
The castmember entered the combination of the safe drawer, slowly spinning the four wheels to line up the passcode, 1983. The drawer popped open, the light of the room illuminating numerous objects, including a key. He removed the key from the drawer and inserted it into a keyhole on the control panel.
"See you in a year, Figment," he said as he turned they key into the off position.
Back in the turntable's circular chamber, the old man slowly stopped pedaling as the propeller on the back of the dirigible.
The small purple dragon slowly descended into the cylindrical canister from which he emerged.
"Dreamfinder, I'm just great," he said quietly.
"Goodbye, Figment," the old man sadly called back as the canister clicked closed. His smiling face slowly relaxed into a new configuration: not a grin but rather a mournful appearance.