dreams

I spend way, way too much of my time being such the realist. I worry about everything, about the economy, about the climate, about bad drivers, about crooks and liars. I stress over relationships, my kids, sometimes my health or lack therof.

I can’t put into words how hard it is to let go of realities in order to imagine things. As much as I love movies and comics and fiction, I dwell on international news for hours. I haven’t always been this way. When I was much younger I used to weave elaborate stories, entire fantasy worlds. Mostly in my head, but sometimes on paper. In a way, this blog is a fantasy world of mine, because it allows me to write things that I may or may not ever say out loud. I still find myself focusing too much on reality, here, that’s just the way I am. I can’t seem to stop.

I’ve got to somehow try, though, to dream a little bit more, cuz the alternative is making me old before my time.

Yes, my life is so dull, that I dreamed I was writing a blog entry last night. But not really, in my dream I wasn’t at my computer, but I was planning my blog entry. And it was going to be great! It was going to be profound yet teasing at the same time, promising a better entry when I actually had time to write it (because Dream Me was just so busy, you know). And the dream was apparently triggered by a visitor from Yonkers, since you were in there (*waves*).

But alas, it was just a dream, and maybe I’ll tell about it sometime.

Meantime? Go here, and read an awesomely fantastic piece of writing, such that it makes mine look even more drivel-ish than usual.

So, I’m having this wonderfully delicious dream, which involved a hotel room, a shower, and wicked hot oral sex…

then I wake up, and see that my wife has gone to the store. To buy Harry Potter.

And? tampons.