The Time I’ve spent dreaming
How much of my life was a false transaction of a future I imagined
I often think about the Years spent locked into corridors of my mind, I often find myself thinking about building futures never to be. Every one of them has a reality to it, vivid enough for me to believe that with every little step I took I would almost be at either success, happiness, or fulfillment. But the slap of reality held me firmly in place, reminding me that I hadn’t budged from where I was standing.
Dreaming became a false deal, a cost of time, energy, and hope for a mythical prospect of a future that I thought belonged to me after efforts that I never really made. And so I sold myself to fantasy, believing that wishing hard enough would make the thing mine. More comfortable was it to stay with the illusion of what could be than to face the pain of what was.
Now, in the years I spent waiting for perfect, living wasn't happening-only waiting was. Waiting for that absolutely perfect moment, that ideal version of myself to come along. But in all that waiting, life passed me by. The future I kept dreaming of lay forever over the horizon, and meanwhile, no amount of dreaming can buy one's way into another's control. Life's not a passive transaction. And that is the dirty, uncertain nature of dreams, their demand for action in the present, where the dream should come second after the concrete reality of here and now. It's time to wake up and start living, not just to imagine.
