Archive for daydreaming

BUBBLE BOY

Posted in writing with tags , , , , , , on March 7, 2014 by kimmy

 

staring

Sweet little Bubble Boy, trapped in a Plexiglas world of his own.  He watches from a safe distance and whiles way his time by recounting victories of time past and reliving them within his cocoon.  One, two, three, four, five years roll by and yet he hasn’t changed a bit… at least on the inside, where the real party is.  If only he could share his secret adventures with the rest of us, what an event that would be!  Let’s stay up all night!  Paper streamers and noise makers for everyone!

Can you feel the exhilaration, the sheer joy of fearlessness?  He can, and what a difference!  Who knew leading a parallel life could be so thrilling?  Is it the naughtiness or the temporary escape from ennui that gives it punch?  Aw, who cares when the emotional high is so satisfying with so little risk.  He’s on top of the world and didn’t even take a step!

Now he’s flying to Paris.  Watch him go!  He doesn’t even need a plane!  See him stroll along the Seine.  See him dine in cafes.  See him triumph on the stage.  The applause is thunderous, the groupies numerous, the critics never-ending in their praise.  Awards shoot like darts into his worthy arms and the paparazzi  follow him from one exotic location to the next.

Why, now he’s in Los Angeles, canoodling with blonde starlets and signing autographs!  Is there nothing he can’t do?  He’s like the Most Interesting Man in the World, without having actually done anything!  What an achiever!

Well now, here’s a sudden detour to New York.  Time to hobnob with the East Coast elite.  See how their harsh opinions are softened by the appearance of our Boy.  See them flock to his side, clamoring for attention.  Why, certainly he’d be delighted to spearhead their fundraisers.  A run for public office?  Why not!  His soundbytes are unforgettable!  Haven’t you heard his podcasts?

Hunger, war, disease are things of the past.  He’s solved them all.  Intra-dimensional travel?  Been there.  Super-conscious transcendence?  Done that.

Now there’s nothing left to do, sweet little Bubble Boy, but to return to the confines of your mind and spend the rest of your life looking out the window.

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THREE’S A CROWD

Posted in musings, personal, public confessional, relationships, writing with tags , , on July 7, 2008 by kimmy

Can your inner life become an entity unto itself?  Is it possible that it can manifest into a creature that has to be reckoned with, as real as a living lover and just as cumbersome?  I was soon to find out.

After spending my entire life in a daydream, I woke up the other day to discover an unwelcome party encamped in my bed.  It was lodged firmly between my husband and myself, rooted to the spot like a petulant child.  It was a blob of self-created fantasy so big that it nearly pushed both of us out of bed. 

I immediately recognized my handiwork and that alarmed me.  How did the thing migrate from my head to partycrasher?  Aren’t mental scenarios confined to the brain?  Apparently, this one was not and it seemed in no hurry to leave the comfort of my marital bed, not a terrible prospect if this fantasy had actually involved  my husband.

Of course it did not.  This misshapen intruder was the result of countless hours dreaming about a life which did not include him, a life which bears no resemblance at all to the unremarkable life I live during my waking one.  It’s full of pathos, my blobby offspring; rich with torrid romance and exhilirating emotions, and topped with a gooey thick icing of maudlin sentiment and chocolate sprinkles.   Satin sheets, rose petals, bearskin rugs and red carpet strolls in haute couture, accompanied by a soundtrack of applause and a portfolio of expensive real estate.  It’s glorious, vain and masturbatory, like a secret addiction which is intensely pleasurable but destructive.

I needed an intervention.  So, I convened a group of my closest advisors -reason, judgment and common sense- and threw myself at their mercy.  They showed me none.  Harsh, cold and unmoved by my tears, they threatened to leave me completely if I chose not to take the help they offered. 

What else could I do?  I boarded the plane and flew away to rehab.  I only wonder if I’ll survive ninety days without champange wishes and caviar dreams.