I live a large part of my life in daydreams. So occasionally my reality is tainted by my imagination and I am always completely stunned at the contrariness of the two. My imagined life is extraordinarily extraordinary, my real life is quiet and ordinary, not bad certainly and happy definitely, but inevitably less than imagined. Alas. What is a contrary girl to do? Something, I just have to do something. The difficulty lies in the sheer amount of things I have imagined myself doing- writing a wildly unexpected and successful novel, becoming an artsy pianist a la Regina Spektor, catching a serial killer, winning a Nobel Peace Prize, discovering there really is a Narnia…and a million other things I’ve daydreamed myself doing that probably won’t (or can’t) ever be done, at least not by me.
But then again…sifting through the more absurd and unrealistic dreams (Oh, Narnia if only you really did exist!) I find myself wondering why I haven’t considered the possibility that a least a few of these imaginings are, in fact, possible. Why have I always assumed never? Never is, after all, an awfully long time- it seems to me that logically there are very few things that will never happen. So, I’m going to try, at least make an attempt, at being the extraordinary me of my daydreams or countrarywise my daydreams are going to make an attempt at being me.