My Dear One,

Secret fantasies.  The stuff of our dreams.  Most of us have them.  Imagination takes me there, but some may use a different vehicle.  Whether pragmatic or idealistic, exploring our fantasies is where we come to understanding of who we are.  It’s where we meet self, because the true self dwells in the land of fantasy.  Allowing our minds to explore our fantasies introduces us to our authentic character in truth, both its wholesome and unsavory sides.  How is this possible, you may ask?  It is possible through a dichotomy.  Even though a fantasy is the land of the impossibility, there are no illusions there.  Even though a fantasy is nothing more than an illusion, the reality of the fantasy is complete honesty, because all is illusion.  The fantasy is consistently illusory.  Because you control the landscape, the characters, the conversations, and the actions; because you create the illusion, you dwell in the land in the way you wish.  One might say in the way your true heart desires.

So far, I have painted a very interesting picture.  Perhaps you have already drawn the conclusion that this sounds like a very good thing.  It can be.  In our fantasies, we could be slaying the evil dragons which beset us, or perhaps beset others.  We could be exploring possibilities which may make the world a better place, or may make our personal interior a better place.  However, meeting ourselves in a dream can also show us the hidden dark parts, the person we would be without boundaries, standards, responsibilities, or expectations.  Sometimes, entering our fantasies exposes the evil side of ourselves.  We all know it’s there.  But do we really want to make the acquaintance of that side?

Ah … introspection.  It’s not always as romantic as it’s made out to be.  It’s through introspection that we identify the good and the evil inside our person.  It’s where we do battle as we try to determine which side emerges as the victor.  And if you never wage this war, you have chosen to set up permanent residence in a cesspool.  You have chosen to dwell in a place where you cannot grow.  Where all is truly illusion, where you see yourself as unflawed and the standard for ultimate perfection.  Do not set up residence in such a place.  You may never be able to escape.

Have I captured your attention?  Now that the introduction has been written, allow me the enjoyment to explore the unrealistic imaginings which exist inside of my mind.  There are many, but let’s just start with one.

Simply put, one of my fantasies is to live the nomadic life.  It can’t be described in perfect detail, as my mind does not operate in such a way.  But loosely described, it’s a life not moored in any particular place.  It’s a life having no permanent ties to any individual.  It’s a life in which no physical possessions hold sway.  A life where I would be free to come and go, staying for as long or as little as I desire.  This all would depend upon the allure of the place and the people.  The more interesting, the longer I would stay.  The more mundane, the quicker I would be to leave.

My experiences would fuel me, taking me on to the next destination.  Never belonging to any one place, always a traveler, always viewing the landscape and its inhabitants with fresh eyes.  Something new to discover every day.  I would set up shop, make a temporary life in each place.  New friends, new career, new residence, new furnishings, new collections, new hobbies … new everything.  Each experience would be presented to me as a beautiful gift to unwrap.  The luster of each gift creating great anticipation; fresh thrills awaiting the observer in each experience.  Living in and partaking of each person, each experience, each possession to the fullest, knowing that my time with each would be fleeting.  And then time to process the experiences after they ended, as I traveled to my next destination.

The secret to living the nomadic life would be to avoid entrapment.  What could possibly ensnare me?  People are the least likely ensnarement, if I’m to be honest.  Many have come and gone through this life I now live.  Many have tried to hold me, but could not.  What does it say about my character to admit that most individuals do not command my attention for very long?  Oh, most are interesting for a time.  I probe and pry, seeing through to their souls, analyzing what inspires them, observing the colors of their emotions, and the timbre of their thoughts.  It doesn’t take much time to see all to be seen, and once I have done so, I am ready to move on.  There exists in me a capability to cut ties with those individuals, to leave them and to never look back.  I may miss them in a romantic sort of way, but only insomuch from a sense of gratitude, as they were useful in fueling my thoughts.  What does this say about my character, to admit that I care about people, without ever really caring about them?

But it’s the fascinating ones, the ones who would hold my interest eternally … these are the dangerous ones, the ones which could tie me down.  I wouldn’t want to move on without taking them with me.  All of my probing and prospecting never reveals enough.  There is more underneath, and I know it acutely, but also realize it would take a lifetime to discover it all.  This is the part of me that is possibly frightening.  Not frightening to me, as I have lived with the knowledge of this side of me ever since I can remember.  But frightening to the other, as my interest, if revealed, could be taken for obsession.  I can’t know enough, see enough, hear enough, taste enough, experience enough.  In some ways, I feel for the one who holds my interest, because they become the object of my inner desire to know more.  So I hide the interest, and most who have engrossed me have never known of my captivation.  Experience has taught me to hide it, because I have learned this side of me can rarely be handled or even understood.  What does it say about my character to admit that some people command so much of my thoughts?

I can be tied to the land, if it speaks to me.  All of nature is riveting in my mind, but there are those places, more than others, which intrigue me with its secrets.  Exploration of a place in all seasons, from all angles … I could possibly get tethered to the land if it won my heart.  There are places now, from this lifetime of experiences so far, to which I return again and again.  Places of which I will never tire, especially those locales which were experienced in my childhood and are engrained in my mind and my heart.

Possessions would be of the least concern in holding me back.  As I grow older, I am realizing more and more that there is nothing of material possessions from which I could not detach.  I believe this is possibly a lesson many people learn as they age and gain wisdom.  People should become more important; possessions should become less.  Those who learn this lesson early in life are the fortunate ones.

To sum up my fantasy in a metaphorical way, picture me as a ship sailing from port to port, fully experiencing everything each location has to offer.

Oh, my dear one, that pragmatic introspective pest will not leave me alone.  It has penned me a note, and slid it under the door of this make-believe room.  Shall I share its question for me with you?

Is this fantasy nothing but a means by which to escape reality?   

I don’t know.

Would I be happy with that kind of life?  My imagination is telling me I would, but she has betrayed me in the past, and cannot always be trusted.  She is a temptress, that one, and doesn’t always have my best interests at heart.  I keep her close as one would an enemy, never fully trusting her seductive song.

Again, would I be happy?  To answer that question would require much more writing, more introspecting, more analysis of thought.  I believe I will just enjoy my imaginings for now, and not let pragmatism spoil my fun.

What are your unrealistic imaginings, my dear one?  Tell me.  You can trust me with your secrets.

All my love,

Your Never Sleeping Beauty

We don’t create a fantasy world to escape reality.  We create it to be able to stay.  ~Lynda Barry