I remember as a young kid in the summer when my bedtime was set at 8pm and it was still gloriously sunny outside. I felt cheated having to go to bed while the day was still so full of life. On the early shift for a few days this week, and having to go to bed while it is still light, I am taken back to my childhood bedroom.
I also remember, in the ways kids do, trying to come up with some kind of story to rationalise the light, some kind of fantasy to make myself feel better about the situation. I can't really recall what that was but it involved dragon type creatures sworn to protect me, and I was their king. Because of the colour of my curtains, the sunlight filled the room with a very warm, orangey hue that became the glow from lava in the dragons' cavern deep beneath the earth.
The story evolved and the dragons became hyper-intelligent and technologically advanced, they had a teleporter which could bring anyone to the cavern — I would spend the evening having imaginary conversations with all sorts of people and distinctly remember, when it was someone new, having to convince them the dragons were not a threat and it was perfectly safe.
The imagination is a wonderful thing.