Thursday, June 17, 2004
It's not something I can make happen (when it's really needed, wouldn't that be nice), but there are days that I can almost completely lose myself in a fantasy. Conjure up an almost entirely different world. Almost, because there are a few aspects of my actual life (such as it is) that I really don't want to lose in any alternate version (like my S.O. for example). Mainly each version (because the details vary a bit but each consistently) follows a similar theme: feeling content with (if not actually "happy" with my) life and everything, and everyone in it.
This probably sounds delusional (and with good reason, I'm sure).
I wish I could detail every one of these fantasies in story form (writer wanna-be, another dream that won't die) so I could relive them in better detail. I've tried to make one happen (let the internal movie play!), say, to escape a bad day (that I know is coming) but that doesn't work. The really good ones, just, overwhelm me. Sometimes to the point where I forget "this isn't real." It usually starts while I'm getting ready for my "usual bad day," out of nowhere (without my trying to prompt it), and just continues until I try to stop it (sometimes I can't until it plays out, or I fixate on any particular detail for too long, or try and rewrite it as I envision it; detail-overkill, usually marks the end, and provides an unfortunate reason to come back to reality).
Maybe I should've been an actress too. Hm. I can feel every emotion (in my made up world) and "act out" everything (should I want to). I can live entirely in this fantasy world and still somehow function (though somewhat distractedly) in my own dismal one. Hard to explain the depth, detail, and extent in which I allow these illusions to effect me. Even the tiniest details, and the emotions of anyone involved (made up, and real) are included, vividly.
Delusional? Yep, probably.
Yet, when it happens, and when it's not the nightmare version, (these come too, I can't stop them, and while they favor Sundays, as I tend to be most vulnerable to them on Sundays, for some reason, they can occur at any time, just like the better-life fantasy versions), I can make it though a day I would've otherwise completely dreaded (being alive for). And make it through it less affected (by everything), less upset (by those many situations I'm helplessly over-sensitive to), less hurt (by those who do so with intent, or by coincidence, and don't care either way), and annoyed (by everything unfair, and everything in general), and left out (always feel left out), and slighted (in those many ways), and ignored, (feel this often), and just less "everything" (that's bad).
It doesn't make it the "best day ever," hell no. I mean, I do realize I'm doing something a child (or writer, or psychopath) might do (relishing their existence in a made up world), but if it gets me through the day? I'll take it. And do, whenever it comes.
This has been going on to varying degrees, for years. I used to put them to use at times (when I had a functioning brain). There was a time I could channel my loneliness and desires (and fantasies) into stories. That worked for a while, keeping me in reality as needed (just long enough to get the words down and then begin the next). Some days it was just something I allowed out of boredom. A few years ago, it was almost a necessity (because I'm a coward and my reality was too painful to face). Little by little, I had to let some of that go (daydreaming). Channeling stories enabled me to keep some of that desire alive, and I didn't want to stop entirely. Maybe it's just my way of trying (yes, trying and trying and trying) to be creative. Everyone is different right? Some more sane than others, you know, along that line.
I guess I just worry at times that maybe this was something I was supposed to stop doing when I was kid. Maybe it's some form of dementia, or some other technically named sickness. I call it "escape" (and a way to get through the times I can't, don't want to, yet still have to face) but maybe it's something else entirely.
Or maybe other people do this?
I guess the only (or one of the only) downside('s to this) is when the fantasy effects reality (more than just blurring the painful things I wish to avoid). It happens sometimes. Then it's difficult (more so than it should be considering it's a dream, and I know this throughout) to let go of the emotions. It doesn't matter that they were created in my own mind, following a storyline I allowed to flourish into something completely unreal. It doesn't matter that they were experienced simply for the sake of savoring a particular moment to its fullest.
Another form of self torture I guess. Including the aftermath. I do mourn the end of each one of these (delusional, yet, essential) escapes. Maybe for just a moment as reality comes crashing back. Maybe for a day or two, trying like hell to recapture the imagery and emotions they inspired. Each one, (of the good ones), a little bit of wishful thinking about much that can never happen. The ultimate in denial, even if only for a little while.
*sigh*
This probably sounds delusional (and with good reason, I'm sure).
I wish I could detail every one of these fantasies in story form (writer wanna-be, another dream that won't die) so I could relive them in better detail. I've tried to make one happen (let the internal movie play!), say, to escape a bad day (that I know is coming) but that doesn't work. The really good ones, just, overwhelm me. Sometimes to the point where I forget "this isn't real." It usually starts while I'm getting ready for my "usual bad day," out of nowhere (without my trying to prompt it), and just continues until I try to stop it (sometimes I can't until it plays out, or I fixate on any particular detail for too long, or try and rewrite it as I envision it; detail-overkill, usually marks the end, and provides an unfortunate reason to come back to reality).
Maybe I should've been an actress too. Hm. I can feel every emotion (in my made up world) and "act out" everything (should I want to). I can live entirely in this fantasy world and still somehow function (though somewhat distractedly) in my own dismal one. Hard to explain the depth, detail, and extent in which I allow these illusions to effect me. Even the tiniest details, and the emotions of anyone involved (made up, and real) are included, vividly.
Delusional? Yep, probably.
Yet, when it happens, and when it's not the nightmare version, (these come too, I can't stop them, and while they favor Sundays, as I tend to be most vulnerable to them on Sundays, for some reason, they can occur at any time, just like the better-life fantasy versions), I can make it though a day I would've otherwise completely dreaded (being alive for). And make it through it less affected (by everything), less upset (by those many situations I'm helplessly over-sensitive to), less hurt (by those who do so with intent, or by coincidence, and don't care either way), and annoyed (by everything unfair, and everything in general), and left out (always feel left out), and slighted (in those many ways), and ignored, (feel this often), and just less "everything" (that's bad).
It doesn't make it the "best day ever," hell no. I mean, I do realize I'm doing something a child (or writer, or psychopath) might do (relishing their existence in a made up world), but if it gets me through the day? I'll take it. And do, whenever it comes.
This has been going on to varying degrees, for years. I used to put them to use at times (when I had a functioning brain). There was a time I could channel my loneliness and desires (and fantasies) into stories. That worked for a while, keeping me in reality as needed (just long enough to get the words down and then begin the next). Some days it was just something I allowed out of boredom. A few years ago, it was almost a necessity (because I'm a coward and my reality was too painful to face). Little by little, I had to let some of that go (daydreaming). Channeling stories enabled me to keep some of that desire alive, and I didn't want to stop entirely. Maybe it's just my way of trying (yes, trying and trying and trying) to be creative. Everyone is different right? Some more sane than others, you know, along that line.
I guess I just worry at times that maybe this was something I was supposed to stop doing when I was kid. Maybe it's some form of dementia, or some other technically named sickness. I call it "escape" (and a way to get through the times I can't, don't want to, yet still have to face) but maybe it's something else entirely.
Or maybe other people do this?
I guess the only (or one of the only) downside('s to this) is when the fantasy effects reality (more than just blurring the painful things I wish to avoid). It happens sometimes. Then it's difficult (more so than it should be considering it's a dream, and I know this throughout) to let go of the emotions. It doesn't matter that they were created in my own mind, following a storyline I allowed to flourish into something completely unreal. It doesn't matter that they were experienced simply for the sake of savoring a particular moment to its fullest.
Another form of self torture I guess. Including the aftermath. I do mourn the end of each one of these (delusional, yet, essential) escapes. Maybe for just a moment as reality comes crashing back. Maybe for a day or two, trying like hell to recapture the imagery and emotions they inspired. Each one, (of the good ones), a little bit of wishful thinking about much that can never happen. The ultimate in denial, even if only for a little while.
*sigh*
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