They seem harmless enough. The dictionary defines a daydream as “A dreamlike musing or fantasy while awake, especially of the fulfillment of wishes or hopes.” How could something so lovely sounding ever break your heart? Actually, I don’t have a clever answer for that question, I just know that occasionally they do.
The thing is- daydreams are so whimsical and beautiful and magical that when it’s over your life just seems so beige and miserable compared to what your daydream was. That might seem a little dramatic, but for someone with an imagination like mine it really isn’t. There have been so many times (especially lately) that my daydreams are so grand and exquisite and not necessarily unrealistic (read- love, successful career, and eternal happiness) that when I snap out of it I feel really sad and lonely. This is made all the worse by the fact that the daydreams have been so possible. When I daydream about clouds made of cotton candy, or being able to move objects with my mind, or eating everything I could ever want and never gaining a pound- those things don’t hurt because they are, if not impossible, highly improbable. So, figuratively “waking-up” from those daydreams doesn’t completely suck. Waking-up from daydreams that involve things like falling in love (which isn’t exactly improbable) break your heart. Sometimes, hoping equals hurting.
Despite this, I know I will still have daydreams that break my heart if only a little bit. I guess I want to hold on to the hope even if it hurts for a while.