Have you ever just wanted to drop everything and run away? To find a place where reality doesn’t exist and something more peaceful does? I call this place the unreality. It’s the place where everything in the world is right, is just, is fair, is happy. It’s the place where the underdog wins and everyone claps. It’s the place where money is endless and happiness knows no bounds.
Some days are like that. It’s usually on days when I don’t have any more fight left in me that I want to go to the unreality. I want to crack open a bottle of wine, sip from the bottle, and stare at the walls. If it wasn’t so close to bedtime and I didn’t worry I would have heartburn, I would.
The desire to be in the unreality doesn’t mean that it’s a bad life or that I’m in despair. I just want a grown up time out. I want to close my eyes, click my heels, and be transported to a place where life is easy. People say that it’s the hard times in life where you grow the most. By people, I mean me. I’ve said it. And by this point in the story, I should be the jolly green giant of stoicism. Nope. I’m the ostrich of procrastination and avoidance.
When I was in about the first grade, the school librarian voiced her concerns to my mama that I did too much daydreaming. She said that I would not make eye contact with her and it appeared as if I wasn’t listening. Truly, I probably didn’t make eye contact. She was a scary lady that made books scary to me. I always felt like I was in some competition to read the most books. My mind was wired for its own built in stories so reading then seemed like a nuisance. My stories were better anyway. Off to daydream land I would go…the unreality.
Sometimes it’s just been a coping mechanism. If I could daydream myself to the unreality for just a little while, perhaps I could escape the chaos. Today, I just wanted to win the lottery, buy a tropical island, and open up my own tiki bar. But what happens when these visits to the unreality make you think that perhaps doing something very irrational is just what you need? Maybe the risk of something uncertain will yield a reward. Luckily, reality keeps me grounded. I need a roof over my head and my bills have to be paid. I won’t be opening my tiki bar, blues club, or fishing charter business anytime soon.
If daydreaming was an actual job, I would be the CEO of daydreaming. I could rattle off half baked ideas by the millions. My brain just doesn’t stop thinking or coming up with kooky ideas or stories. If there was a bank on the planet that would fund the ideas, I would be a rich girl. I am beginning to think maybe half my brain is stuck in the unreality. I have to yank on it pretty hard some days to stay grounded in the logical. It stands to reason, then, that maybe writing really is my destiny. If only procrastination wasn’t my foe.
Messpot Diaries 