Confessions of a dreamer

I feel that just before I was to set my feet on mother earth, I went shopping. The mall where one could buy common sense, a sense of wonder, a positive attitude, pessimism, a sense of justice, vengefulness, I blew up on my money on only one product – A Sense of Wonder.

And have lived to sometimes regret it.

And sometimes be proud of it.

I just cannot see anything the way it is, I have to wrap it up in hues of fantasy, have to filter it through layers of imagination and by the time I actually view it through my rose tinted glasses....it does not resemble itself at all !!

It's not what it is, it's what it could have been, it's what it should have been, it's what its expected to have been, it's anything but what it actually is.

Sometimes this vision helps – it takes some hard knocks off those really painful situations. But mostly, it just makes me wish for the impossible. It also takes the simple beauty of real life away and imparts an unreal, unearthly glow to everything that is just an illusion. And you know what happens when illusions break – hearts also break.

‘Get real !’ is what everyone keeps telling me.

‘Get real!’is what I keep telling myself every time I find myself at the end of a dream.

But I keep going on, wishing on falling stars, dreaming of the impossible, the proverbial Peter Pan , who refuses to ever grow up, whose heart lives in Never land – the land that never existed.

That also makes me more comfortable with children, rather than adults – because most adults have hardened up, discarded their eyes of wonder and made cynicism their constant companion. Children’s eyes are wondrous, as though they are going to discover something new every moment.

I would rather read fairy tales or a physics journal (Both are based on the same principle – A sense of wonder) than exchange my thoughts with adults who keep saying Í told you so’ after every two statements or who look at life as something to be endured.

I wish to dive into the ocean of dreams and never emerge again in this real world that offers me nothing but shallow hope, and slaps me with hard reality.

I do not wish to buy reality. Thank you very much. I am happy with my sense of wonder.

Isnt it a miracle that in this world populated with anger, unhappiness and, cruelty, babies are still being born… babies with big, round, eyes full of dreams and stardust ? That would keep me living till the day when the time would come to leave reality behind and sleep… a final sleep of wonder.