“We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires and comets inside us. We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand. But then we get the magic educated right out of our souls.”
– Robert McCammon, “A Boy’s Life”
Shanna Forrestall began to tell stories as a child. Powered by an imagination that crackled to life as she played dress-up with her siblings and friends, and lured by the ability of fables and myths to impart truth, she now pours the sum of her existence into using storytelling to shift global consciousness to a better place, she says.
It’s a tall order for a Louisiana-born creative producer who lives on a “little hill” in Rising Fawn, Georgia, as Forrestall puts it, but no one has ever accused her of aiming low. Whether she’s writing a children’s book, composing music for young people or producing a film, she envisions her ideas stretching across land and sea like life-giving vines, she exclaims.
“A few years ago, I asked myself what I could do to make the world a better place. My intuition said I needed to catch people before they fully form and instill them with humanity, empathy and magic.”
To effect change, Forrestall realized she also needed to usher adults back to before the harsh rigors of modern life smothered the magic they carried as children.
“That’s my two-pronged strategy for changing the world,” she says with the confidence of someone who has unbounded faith in herself and others.
Forrestall’s newfound purpose manifested itself in forms that ranged from a children’s book about personal identity titled “Why the Girl Became a Cat,” to an award-winning short film about inequity toward people of color in the South dubbed “A Cry for Help,” to a healing sanctuary she named MyLandia – her aforementioned “little hill.” (She also acted in the feature films “The Last Exorcism” and “Olympus Has Fallen” because a woman has to eat.)
To develop these and other endeavors, Forrestall partnered with talented creatives who possessed the skills she lacked. Matthew DeGuia, a young man on the autism spectrum, illustrated “Why the Girl Became a Cat,” for example, while Los Angeles-based musician Jeff Gold composed the music for Forrestall’s children’s songs.
“I can tell stories, but I can’t do the things my brilliant, creative partners can do,” Forrestall explains. “I love giving my work to people who are far more talented than I am and watching them mold it into something we can release into the wild.”
The latest expression of Forrestall’s marriage of creativity and activism has taken a shape none of her other projects have – that of a dragon.
The dragon is one of two main characters in an animated short film Forrestall wrote and narrated titled “The Boy and the Dragon.” The second is a youngster whose brain conjures his imaginary friend everywhere he goes.
Although no one else can see the dragon or believes it exists, the creature brings great joy to the child. (Picture the Bill Watterson comic strip “Calvin and Hobbes” with a dragon instead of a tiger.)
“There was a boy who had a dragon, and he could see it everywhere he went,” narrates Forrestall as a purple and gold-speckled cartoon dragon chummily drapes the tip of its tail off the right shoulder of a grinning, brown-haired boy. “But no one else could see him or understand why he was sent.”
Chattanooga animator Alex Tucker, who also works as a clerk at East Ridge City Library, designed the characters and brought “The Boy and the Dragon” to vibrant life. Forrestall turned to Gold to provide the music, a bright but relaxing piano motif that helps to carry the story across all of its 99 seconds.
Within this brief span of time, Forrestall economically tells the story of how the boy tries to forget about the dragon as he becomes a teenager and then – spoiler alert! – reunites with his imaginary friend as an adult.
“We each get to have our magic, and it doesn’t have to be seen by everyone,” Forrestall assures as the dragon and his fully grown chum sit side by side, silhouetted in the orange and yellow radiance of a setting sun. “It’s OK to be the only one who sees the dragon.”
Forrestall says the sunset – which implies that a person’s imagination can enrich their existence in every season of life – was just one of many emotionally resonant touches Tucker added to the project.
“Alex has a beautiful sensitivity to the many layers of visual storytelling. He knows which elements of a story are imperative and has the genius make them visible.”
Tucker, who cites the Peter, Paul and Mary song “Puff the Magic Dragon” as the visual inspiration for his friendly beast, says Forrestall in turn understands that artists need elbow room.
“Sometimes, you have to wind us up and let us go,” Tucker says with a smile. “At the same time, ‘The Boy and the Dragon’ was Shanna’s vision, and I didn’t question that.”
Forrestall’s film sprung from not only her own imagination but also a quest to learn more about the human condition in general and the mental health of men in particular.
This pursuit included interviews with close to 100 men from diverse nations and cultures. As Forrestall spoke with friends, acquaintances, strangers and more, she came to believe the tendency of many males to suppress trauma, grief and shame have negatively impacted their mental health.
“I believe women do a better job of forming community and communicating their struggles to others,” she offers. “Men generally say, ‘Suck it up,’ which leads to midlife crises and the disintegration of their mental health.”
Forrestall doubled her efforts following a traumatic event in her life – the suicide of her late husband – and the surge in severe depression that followed in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. Eventually – perhaps inevitably – her conclusions morphed into stories.
“I was asking, ‘What are we losing? What are we missing? What do we need to reclaim?’ And I saw that no one was justifying the magic that existed in these men. I wanted to tell them, ‘It’s OK to dream, it’s OK to play, and it’s OK to pretend – even when you’re 50. I play pretend every day.”
As Forrestall pondered her epiphany, the boy and his dragon grew out of the fertile soil of her own mind.
“’The men (with whom I spoke) were trapped in jobs they hated because of their responsibilities. They weren’t making time for being creative, and that was hurting their souls. Then I saw a dragon, and I understood that our creativity begins with the imaginary friends we have as children, and that people act like we’re crazy if we talk about them once we grow up.”
Kate Warren, the founder of Art 120 in Chattanooga, says “The Boy and the Dragon” achieves the difficult task of speaking to both children and adults in a bite-sized viewing experience.
“It’s a short and sweet piece that’s easy for kids and adults to grasp,” says Warren. “I love how it encourages people to never lose sight of their imagination as they grow older. That might seem strange to other people, but it’s perfectly fine for you.”
Going further, Warren says imaginary friends like the dragon can strengthen a person.
“There are a lot of negative voices out there, so it’s critical that you listen to yourself and be true to yourself. An imaginary friend can help you do that.”
“The Boy and the Dragon” is available for free viewing (www.youtube.com/watch?v=0dU0ZnPTapQ) via the YouTube channel of My Calm World, a company through which Forrestall and Gold hire and mentor neurodiverse young people.
Forrestall hopes the film reminds people of all ages that their dragon is still inside of them – and always will be.
“(Author) Madeleine L’Engle talked about how we don’t have to leave anything behind as we grow older. Instead, we can be all of our experiences. We can be a 3-year-old dancing in the rain, we can be a 6-year-old playing in the mud, and we can fall in love for the first time. But we tend to think, ‘I’m 50, and I have other things to do.’ No, you can do what you want. You can even have an imaginary friend.”