Daydreams

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I’ve been a daydreamer all of my life.  I used my imagination to get me through the through the day.  When I was a kid I would daydream about a happier life when our family bickered about this or that .  I would daydream during class, walking home or a car trip.   Growing up in the pre-internet era sometimes all you had was your imagination to keep you company. Getting lost in my own head was often preferable to reality.

I would daydream about most anything, books, travel or even the boy in math class.  Sometimes my daydreams were pure fiction, sometimes about something I hoped would happen….what I would get for my birthday or who might ask me to dance at the eighth grade dance.

As a kid, my daydreams were often about things happening to me, someone getting me the perfect birthday present or having a peaceful Thanksgiving.  As an adult, some of my daydreams are about me making things happen.  I spend a lot of daydreaming about my garden.  Some of my ideas I acted upon.  When it comes to a garden, Mother Nature usually has a say in how your dreams play out.

Once in a while I step out of my somewhat cautious personality and act on an idea to do something wacky, like paint the bathroom orange.

I still daydream from time to time. I daydream about sometime owning a house by the water.  I daydream about getting a cute red car.  I daydream about living a long life with my husband, long enough to see grandchildren.

Goal setting…and reality

I often daydream about this and that.  How I could radically transform my life in just 30, 60 or 90 days.

I design the transformation plan in my head.  It usually includes some sort of strict exercise regimen, and giving up unhealthy foods and adding in healthier ones.

The transformation plan will always start on Monday.  It can’t start sooner because I plan to have at the very least a bacon cheeseburger and some ice cream over the weekend.

The plan to a new glorious me will often fail these days because by Monday I forget all the spartan details I’d etched into my mind on Friday night.

When I was younger and my mind was sharper, I used to fill spiral notebooks with the details of my plans.  I’d have homemade graphs with boxes to check.  Reminders to myself of what to do and what not to do.

It used to seem like the old spiral notebook was one tool to get me where I wanted to go. The act of physically writing things down seems to be an important part of the process. But I can be arrogant about the need to write things down, even though the arrogance doesn’t serve me well.

Maybe I should buy myself another spiral notebook.