I used to walk a lot. When I lived in Toronto, I walked everywhere, all the time.
I loved walking very early in the morning, or later at night – things change then. The city is different.
I would listen to music and play through a million different worlds in my head.
I never realized, until now, that this is where I have lived for most of my life – in my head.
However, as the pressures of adult life increases and presses in on me, I have had to vacate my head living space, to make room for lists of things for which I am responsible.
Despite this, I continue to fight to try and find my way back to that place – where daydreams are vivid and there are a million possibilities just waiting for my next step to play out.
My brain has become stagnant. It doesn’t write anymore. It doesn’t play anymore. It doesn’t create anymore.
Even dreaming takes work these days. It used to be as real and as constant as each breath.
I have been struggling to figure out what I want my life to be. I thought that I was trying to figure out who I am, what I want, etc. but, I am beginning to wonder if I’m really just searching for dreams.
Where do dreams exist?
Do they live in music? In movies, books, or television?
Do dreams begin to fade as you get older?
I enjoy being a dreamer – I love living in a land where anything is possible, where the stories are live and full of adventure, fear, love, wonder, and hope.
Music brings me to that place.
“Be the hand of a hopeful stranger / You’re scared but you’re strong enough / Be the light in the dark of this danger / ‘Til the sun comes up” (A Safe Place to Land, Bareilles/McKenna)
“I’ve been twisting and turning / In a space that’s too small / I’ve been drawing the line and watching it fall / You’ve been closing me in, closing the space in my heart / Watching us fading and watching it all fall apart” (The Pieces Don’t Fit Anymore, Brammer/Robson/Catchpole)
“When you’re walking downtown / Do you wish I was there? / Do you wish it was me? / With the windows clear and the mannequin’s eyes / Do they all look like mine?” (Come Pick Me Up, Adams / Alston)
“I’m down I’m down on my knees I’m begging for all your sympathy / But you (I’m just an illusion) you don’t seem to care . . . You humble people everywhere (I don’t mean to hurt you)” (Time, Kreviazuk, Wattenberg, Maida)
I walked down our street at 1:30am this morning and I dreamt. I breathed, I ran, I soaked-up the diamond snow and I began to make some space in my mind to rent it to myself occasionally until I can completely renovate and move back up there.