Daydreaming is a strange thing.  In hard situations, a daydream can come as an odd comfort.  To imagine a better scene, in a better place, is painful as well as strangely peaceful.

In an imaginary scene, I can control what happens.  I can’t exactly do this in real life.  And while I am bold in my fantasies, and fearless, in real life I am anything but.  In a daydream, I say the right thing, look the right way, know what to do and do not hesitate to do it.  I wish I were like that in real life.  A daydream is predictable.  It’s like a story, written in my mind.  Real life is unpredictable.  I worry too much for my daydreams to come alive.

Because of that, though, daydreams can be discouraging.  I can be completely caught up in my perfect world, where everything is at its finest at my command; yet as soon as I snap out of it, reality kicks in and I know my life can never be so ideal.

I wonder if there is any long-term benefit from a daydreamt fantasy.  It’s not as if I’ll suddenly become beautiful, with clear skin and nonfrizzy hair, if I daydream it long enough.  Pigs won’t fly, no matter how long I envision myself riding one.

And no, sorry to break it to you, Emilino, but just because you pictured it for so long does NOT mean he is going to kiss you.  Or even hold your hand.

But really, IS there any good that comes from a daydream?  How about this — you picture yourself walking through school.  You see a girl who is sitting alone.  Great, ’cause you’re used to sitting alone as well.  You approach her, and get a conversation going.  You’ve replayed the words you’ll start it with in your head.

And suppose the next week, this really DOES happen.  Maybe not exactly as you’d planned, but because you’d daydreamed this, you knew good might come of it, and so you give it a try.  And it works.

Can that happen?  Has that happened to you?

I sure can’t think of any such personal occurrance.

But I still wonder.

Can daydreams come true?



Pictures courtesy:


The Good Things

Good days fly by

Once they’ve passed, they taunt us

“Come back,” they say, “Just go ahead and try”

They take with them our happiness

They take with them our trust

Then come the days that never end

And come the dreams, oh, sickly sweet

The dreams that cannot mend

And when we wake, into the sleet

We wish the dreams could stay

The color fades, we sob inside

We can’t return, but oh, we tried

We clawed the walls, we beat the doors

And our tears glistened on the floors

We tried to run, away, away

But we couldn’t find a home

We could not chase away the days

Days of nightmares, days of nothing

No, not a one

We wanted rest

We prayed for home

“Some day,” we said, “We’ll find the best”

“The good days will return sometime”

“They never fail to come”


I wrote that today.  Here’s a verse I found from the Bible:


“How the gold has become dim!

How changed the fine gold!

The stones of the sanctuary are scattered

At the head of every street.”

(Lamentations 4:1 NKJV)




So, last night, I dreamed that I met David Tennant (who plays The Doctor in Season 2 of Doctor Who, my favorite TV show), who I’ve loved and wanted to meet for quite some time now.  Here’s a picture of him:

So yeah, as I was saying, I dreamed that I met him (that’s actually the second time I’ve dreamed that I met him.  I ALSO dreamed that I met Billie Piper, who plays the character Rose.).  The important part of this is mostly just a simple observation.

You know how when you’re dreaming, your dreaming self doesn’t know it’s dreaming?  And you think the events of the dream are ACTUALLY happening?  That usually is how things go in my dreams, but in this one, I knew I was dreaming.  That’s pretty much what made this particular sleepy-time fantasy interesting.  I knew I was dreaming, and I wished I weren’t dreaming.  My dreaming self wished that my dream was reality.  It sort of ruined the encounter with David Tennant, too.  Because I knew I wasn’t really meeting him.  I was getting a fake autograph and fake answers to the questions I asked.  It would all go away as soon as I woke up.

Have you ever had one of those terrible nightmares in which you can’t wake up?  It’s the worst worst kind of dream, but no matter how hard you try, your actual self simply refuses to be woken by your dreaming self.  (I hope my referrals to “dreaming self” and “actual self” aren’t getting you confused.  You might not even be reading this right now.  You might have given up a paragraph ago.  But if you’re reading THIS, you didn’t, and I thank you for that.)  I hate those nightmares.  There’s something about dreams, you know?  A lot of our dreams are forgotten.  They simply slip from our memory and drift into the subconscious, and we never recall them again.  But most of the time, the ones we DO remember make some sort of an impact on us.  At least, that’s how it is for me.  When I remember a dream thoroughly, it tends to make an impact on me.  Like a message, or something.  I don’t know if you ever get that feeling, but I do.

What’s REALLY annoying is when you really enjoy a dream (or really hate a dream) and you wake up and get out of bed, and then you try to reenact in your mind what happened in the dream, and you just can’t.  You don’t remember it anymore, other than a little tiny sliver.  That annoys the HECK out of me.  I want to beat my head against a wall when that happens.

Anyway, just an odd and random observation of dreams that I felt like I wanted to share.  Hope you enjoyed!

I also hope that this post inspired you to watch Doctor Who.  Because that show is amazing.