Dreaming. You know. Everything from fantasizing about a person, daydreaming about the future, pretending you can hear the gong-gongs from the Buddhist temples in Asia or smell the scent of lavender from the fields in southern France, to imagining you’re surrounded by fairies. Or little red goblins. You choose. It was a way too long sentence anyway.

When I was tiny, somewhere on pre-school age, I was completely convinced the wind spoke to me at times, leading me to places and thoughts. Well, and that it was living in the large willow in a nearby park. My grandma even wrote a poem about that. Crazy kid? Well, I guess. Now that I think of it, it was kind of nice to feel guided by the nature. Especially since I’ve always thought most religions are more like really violent, sexual and kinda gross fairy tales. I’d much rather believe in Little Red Riding Hood and the wolf, although I had to admit I don’t exactly see what kind of religion one could make out of that. Back to the red line, aka main forest path, (if there actually is one) feeling the wind and hearing it through wind chimes and leaves rattling still calms me down and makes my imagination spin off like a crazy butterfly.

When it comes to dreaming, I’m a god-damned professional. I’ve read some place (read: in a Norwegian popular science magazine) that you have to practise around 10 000 hours before you really, really become good at something. And what is that? Around 416 days (and a half)? One year and 7,3 weeks? Feel free to correct if your maths is better than mine.

I betcha I’ve day dreamed a whole lot more than that. Actually, I don’t bet. I know. It’s more like 16 years, and I’ve been both dreaming and daydreaming. Which makes it almost constant, really. I could say it’s been almost 20 years, considering I’ll be 20 on Thursday (the 27th of August!), but I really don’t know or remember much about the first 4 years of my life. Except that I loved cats, burned my hair down – accidentally – on a candle and thus had an awful boy-short hair cut, had a wild imagination and a bad taste in clothing. Have to mention my dresses got much prettier when I reached 5.

I’m think I’m still dreaming, really. Maybe I will let the wind lead me properly some day. Like that brilliant lady in the movie Chocolat. Well, not counting the ending of it.

This entry was posted on Monday, August 24th, 2009 at 18:57 and is filed under dreaming, inspiration. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.