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Some say the trick is not to have any. They say that what really fucks you up are the thoughts in your head that whisper how things should be. I am truly thankful for my mother’s bedtime stories (even, no, ESPECIALLY the ones that had weird endings because mom sometimes fell asleep and sort of sleeptalked her way through the final twists and turns in the plot). However, these stories resulted in a graphic and zesty imagination, which means the there is a legion of notions in my head whispering, scheming, singing, sketching, and generally holding advanced courses on how things should be. For example:

On my perfect holiday, there should be a full moon, an old pickup, The Guy, a perfect cornfield, a nice flowing hairdo in the style of J.Lo, a blanket on the hood of the old pickup, at least +20ºC, a bottle – no let’s make that two – of red wine, a C-cassette full of bluesy rock, AND zero mosquitoes or other species of vexation.


Whereas in reality, what you would get is an overdose of overtime work to afford a ticket to Arizona … Where you would rent the pickup with your last dollar, sweat your hairdo into a floppy mess, buy the wine but forget to bring ANY water. And once the moon is in place, you would smell like a sailor, look like a serial killer and pass out in the desert to be snacked on by ants.

Am I the only one who has an overdeveloped Reverie Gland?  Here’s some proof from my real life:

The perfect beach holiday: The perfect family getaway for a no-fuss week in the sun, only 100m from the beach, which was … ENTIRELY ENGULFED BY DISGUSTING SWAMPY PLANTS THAT LOOK LIKE PLAGUE WITH CHLOROPHYLL . The actual beach is like a 3km walk away, including a small boat trip. Hi-ho!  The Reverie Gland was not happy.

The perfect Christmas Eve with silently falling angelic, glittery snow …. spent in 39ºC fever AFTER BEING PUBLICLY AND LOUDLY SCOLDED by inane inlaws from Hicktown. The Reverie Gland severely irritated.

At this point I would like all of you who are about to comment something about 1st world problems to turn off their computers and return to their lairs.

What I have realized lately is that the only time when my reverie gland is happily hibernating is when everything is suddenly about somehow, anyhow getting through the day. When I focus on the here and now, there is no bandwidth for daydreaming. I actually read this in a book (The History of Time, borrowed from a dear friend): apparently a human being has NO SENSE OF TIME, when the present moment contains enough stimulation… which is also when a human being is happiest. Something to think about.

I am kind of thankful for the past year, which has thoroughly made me wade through some swampy ground because … I just realized today, after yet another setback in the economics of my existence, that I no longer have that many expectations. I believe that my Reverie Gland has finally withered and moved out to live with one of my perkier Facebook friends. I am happy to have a roof over my head, a sofa that could engulf a small town into its velvety pillowness, edible stuff in the fridge and red wine in stock.

I don’t think about what-ifs or plan some future endeavors. I focus on the Right Here and Right Now. And come to think of it, it is pretty freaking awesome.

Right now,

I don’t have Dreams. I have shimmering seconds of bliss in my ordinary Tuesdays.

Right here,

Happiness is not about Dreams. It is about those tiny shiny moments in the sands of time.

Some say you should not have great expectations. They be right.


Thank you, wrdbnr.com

And Pinterest, http://pinterest.com/pin/23573598021514568/

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