On Writing, Dreams and Reality

What do I want my stories to accomplish? When someone reads my work, I want them to feel joy & happiness; to want to explore and meet new people. Most of all, I want everything I write to be a reflection of myself. I’ve provided you with some tidbits on my personality through my other posts but my piece below may give you a better idea of what goes on in my head.

I’m a dreamer. Can a person be a realist and a dreamer or is the dread of reality too much for us to bear on our happy, lustful shoulders? Sometimes my head wants to float away from my body because it is always going places; places that I have never seen. It is dreaming of sensations and experiences. But a dreamworld is a dangerous place if you have a 24/7 membership. It seduces you with all the Belgian truffles, the Rioja wine and the French brie you could dream of but then it leaves you empty handed.

But to dream means to close your eyes and to be the conductor of an orchestra. To close them again and to see a dance number that you have created play across your mind. To close them yet again and be in a place with a friend that is 6,000 km away, but yet you are together, embracing and smiling with them. To dream of moments like these where not only are you fulfilling your desires but are developing new interests are what makes me renew my subscription to dreamland every day. Maybe it seems a costly membership but can one put a cost on happiness; on creativity; on fulfilment?

At nights I rarely dream, or maybe I do but I can’t recall. I’m thankful for these day dreams that keep my life interesting. I can close my eyes and be enchanted and I can open them and transfer that feeling into my daily life. I only wish to share this feeling, one that feels like the happiness obtained from eating a creamy, rich, dark piece of chocolate without the accompanying guilt after 4 pieces. To feel at peace; content; satisfied.

One Comment Add yours

  1. Yusuf says:

    I loved the post and in an attempt to carry on the idea of a dreamland, I did write a little poem 🙂

    DREAMLAND

    The sound of harmonica is creating a vibrant atmosphere
    where the emotions of hidden souls nurture…
    I am the prince of the land, ocean and the sky,
    said the young, dancing boy with the funny hat;
    the melodies you hear are the carriers you can use,
    to carry your soul between different dimensions…
    What about the needles of the destiny,
    hardships of the days without color and nights without dark;
    what about the falling candles of shivering hopes,
    and the questions of minds waiting enlightment,
    asked the traveller with a tone more sounded like a resistance…
    Did you really believe beauty existed without the pain,
    responded the boy, smiling occasionally to all wathching the occasion…
    The harmonica changed the tune as the birds without wings started to sing,
    a song of freedom devoted to all fighters of purity.
    The half sun shone on the faces in hiding,
    the darkness tried to pull their bodies away;
    where does this end, the traveller was thinking,
    as he tripped and fell walking through the doors of new emotions…
    This is a familiar scent he thought, pulling his head out of the slimy mud,
    it reminds me of the flowers of my childhood blooming in the spring;
    the times I fell in love the first time,
    and whole nature was witnessing this incredible event…
    Dreamland was the name of the garden I walked every morning in,
    glory was the colorful flowers of the fruit trees;
    I could travel faster than the car I travelled in,
    I could believe anything I wanted to…
    With these thoughts circulating his mind,
    the traveller recognized the boy in the funny hat,
    he was noone other than his childhood,
    waving his hat spilling out flowers in this dreamland of his…
    Love opened this door once again and let him remember,
    dreams have never left him, nor gone farther away;
    clearing the mud from the face now as bright as the sun,
    he smiled a hello to the warmest heart waiting…

    Like

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