I envy the daydreams of children.  They seem so innocent and pure.  Their little imaginations filled with illusions of snowfalls made of frosting, tea parties in the clouds, and bunnies that sing lullabies.  What happens to us? Why are my daydreams about what I should have said to that dickhead in the grocery store who asked me if I was sponsored by sweatpants because that is all I ever wear?  Yeah… well… your face is sponsored by your ass! That is totally what I should have said.

The beautiful thing about childhood is that kids float between fantasy and reality in this effortless dance.  At one moment The Munch is yelling about not wanting to take a shower, and the next she is totally captivated by the serene world she created with her bath toys.  Talking to herself and manipulating plastic toy dogs through unknown narratives only she understands.  There is something so peaceful watching your child lost in their own universe.  Their eyes slightly glazed, as they are looking more inward than out.

I guess we all still experience losing ourselves in our minds throughout life, it just has a different flavor. Like when driving, or waiting in line at the bank, if people are not immersed in their smart phones you can watch as their psyche travels to another land.  The mind begins to meander without much direction.

Sometimes these daydreams are pleasant, but mostly I ending up worrying about something I haven’t done, or obsessing about something I need to do.

But lately I have tried to give myself time to daydream.  Allowing moments away from the technology that distracts me, and just sitting and being.  Not directing my consciousness, but encouraging it to roam free in the folds of my brain.  And let me tell you, as relaxing as that is at times, I am also a pretty demented and strange person.  I think of some weird ass shit!

Look at Munch staring wistfully out into wonderland… what I would give for a day in her head!