Daydreaming, fantasising, letting your mind fly, call it what you want but there is something pleasant in it. We use our imagination to conjure up something nice, perhaps, to flee from our mundane everyday life. That is how it often is perceived and how it works for many people. That is how it is supposed to work.
I find that I am not very good at escaping to fantasy land when I am stressed out, angry or really sad, the times when I need it most. My fantasies are most colourful when I am in a good mood.
When I am happy or inspired I like going there, to roam in the endless green forests of dream country, to stand in awe in front of the high castles, to be amazed by the temples and spires and golden domes of unheard of cults. Then I stare at beautiful slaves and grim warriors of ancient and impossible times. When I am in a good mood I give in to the passions of the slave and the excitements of captivity and strange submission. On a stage, in my mind, I see strange dramas play out, some of them become stories, others stay in my head.
But when I am stressed out and angry it seems as if my imagination doesn't work. Then there is no inspiration and no colourful dreamland. That is sad.
That is where I am now. Don't really know why it is like that at the moment but I don't seem to have time for stories and fantasies and that gets to me. I don't like that.
Today something scary happened. I work from home a lot and today when I was preparing lunch an electric ring on our cooker exploded. Or at least it seemed like an explosion. There were flames and strange sounds and it was like a firework. I have never seen anything like it before.
So, please, forgive me for a gloomy and uninspired blog post. I wish I could write something nice and inspiring but today I am not in the best mood for that.