It strikes me as funny,
because I’m just now thinking of it,
that what happens at night
when I’m unconscious is just a dream
but what happens when I’m conscious and it’s light outside
is a daydream.
As though one is authentic dreamtime
and the other is something more whimsical.
A domain of distracted students closest to the window on a sunny day sort of capriciousness.
It also strikes me,
While we’re on the subject
That the idea of striving to achieve a dream
Could be quite horrific
given the context of what some of my dreams encapsulate.
How did the things we’d like to achieve in a lifetime
become synonymous with the rambling madness the subconscious is capable of?
“If you can dream it, you can do it!”
shouts the tea towel set in a store filled with pastel candles which smell like potpourri.
I don’t want to buy a bright coat which costs 141 dollars while a dog named Never Speaks Norman keeps me company as I accidentally park on bees next to a house which has a basement you enter from across the street while a coworker rubs buildings between her boobs to make them look older and the youth compare me to Miss Marple, ideally because I am clever at solving murders.
But this isn’t about those.
This is about how it feels to dream in the daylight,
How difficult it is to be here now
when my mind would prefer to wander
To roam and speculate
About what isn’t happening here
But might be,
even if my mind is errant in it’s being here and nowness,
what’s to say that I’m not just as present,
are less valid somehow
In their intangible ambiguity?
Today’s song is Daydream Believer by the Monkees
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