“Oh, if you knew what it meant to me to be where the air was so clear.”

I’m someone who recognizes the inherent power of daydreaming.  I’m rarely happier than when I am free and clear enough to have lucid travels in my mind.  Whether the contents are pure fantasy or events that may one day come to pass is besides the point.  It is the exercise in and of itself that means something.  I find that a good bout of daydreaming can go farther to enhance my mood than just about anything else; and I am a woman of many pleasures.

In the past, I was quite methodical about this practice.  I had to choose a place in which to set my mind loose.  This place had to call me to it.  (I have always had a flair for the dramatic;)

Sometimes, I took a notebook in the event that I wanted to capture any of my thoughts.  Most times, I just found my spot and drifted off for however long it took to feel satisfied with what I had accomplished.

And I have a favorite daydreaming spot of yore:  an old generous tree in a park called Robert E. Lee in suburban Maryland.  I found it one day while trail riding.  I came up over a ridge and there she stood in all of her faded glory.  She had obviously been struck by lighting as her entire top section was missing.  She was split in two besides and her wood was parted as though to form a door just big enough for me to come inside.

On a bright sunny Fall day, I ditched my bike and wandered inside.  It was warm and musky; her innards lined with moss and the discarded shells of cicadas.  The ground inside was so very soft.  I often laid down there; my feet poking out onto the trail.

That tree was my refuge for many a year; my go-to place when life started to feel a little too hard to shoulder.  I would go to that tree and release as many demons as I could from my poor overworked brain.  I was safe there.  My thoughts were safe there.  That tree meant more to me than people I had had in my life for longer.

One fateful day, I made my way on foot to my beloved tree.  When I came upon the place where she ought to be, I lost my breath.  She was gone.  Where she once stood, broken but proud, there lay only a large patch of charred earth.  I sank to the ground on a hill of snow drops, buried my head in my hands and wept.

Luckily, I have evolved to a point where I no longer need a specific respite from which to accomplish my daydreaming.  I can do it on the spot; anywhere, anytime, and still be entirely present.  Admittedly, this is one of my favorite abilities sprung from a more mature mind.  If we are having a conversation and I am daydreaming simultaneously, fear not:  I am listening to you.  Really, I am.  The only thing that might give me away would be a delighted twinkle in my eye that seems ever-so-slightly out of context.

Dark Dark Dark – ‘Daydreaming’

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