With enough imagination even a fleeting moment of joy is sufficient for a lifetime.
It is raining outside and I look out the window that teases me with the possibility of a life lived. I haven’t checked my mailbox for days and I try to convince myself to care.
The idea of walking to it with linear purpose overwhelms me with boredom. I wonder: How many acrobatic back flips would it take to get there? How many balletic twirls? Flutters of my eyelashes? Sexy high heeled, hip swaying struts? Loud black-booted stomps?
I open up a spreadsheet, excited, for once, to do mathematics. I create columns, rows and categories; I measure distances and prepare formulas for calculations. I grow bored and wonder: how would these calculations go if my fingers were calloused, nail-bitten and strong? If they were long and slender with nails painted in eye-dazzling varnish? If they tapped with the the tickle of a ladybug’s legs?
Time passes. One more day without the mail.
There is nothing so sad as an unfulfilled dream–save for the slaying of a dream at the time of its fulfillment.
One window is all I need to travel a universe.
When I call myself a dreamer I do not mean that I have goals or ambitions. My dreams have no end beyond themselves: they are pure imagination free from the constraints of reality; free from wanting. They are perfectly self-contained nothings that exist outside of time. If I have one ambition it is this: to be neither more nor less than a dream.
Looking out of my office window I see the branches of a tree bow and wave—a true kindness considering its superiority. The raindrops on the window, growing jealous of our intimacy, increase in volume. The tree responds by waving its branches with even greater intensity and I by weeping.
And just like that I have made a new friend.
I feel lonely and unsettled as I watch the sunlight stealing through the blinds. The particles of dust floating about in the light, deciding where to land. These are the most thoughtful dust particles I have ever the pleasure to meet. Hello, friends–spend the day me!
I daydream of daydreams. I’m so many dreams removed that I have lost track of the dreamer.