I’ve reached that point in my life, again, where I don’t really exist in the present reality. When I’m sitting at my desk, typing a memo, answering the phone or doing whatever it is that a secretary should do, I’m not really there. Instead, I’m pondering a life that includes dreams fulfilled instead of dreams deferred. Fear keeps me from pursuing my dreams, but when I really stop to think about those dreams, they fly away and I’m left with vague remembrances of walking up a flight of stairs in an old Victorian, interviewing an author for a magazine article or catching the red eye to New York City.
This is not a good place for me to be. I need something to entertain me. Someone please entertain me. Give me a vacation to plan, a boy to kiss, a dinner to make. I need something solid to do, or else my mind will take me places everyone I know would rather it did not go. My mind will take me away, and it will take a long time to get me to return.
Maybe Grandma was right. Maybe I do live in a fantasy world.
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