Daydream Believer*

Do you ask "What if?" when others around you ask "What is?" Do you love to immerse yourself completely in a novel, contrary the demands of your family to do something productive? Do you long to become a dancer, musician, writer, poet, playwright, storyteller, or actor when everyone around you insists that you choose a career that is more practical? If so, then you, like me, are a dreamer raised by, and perhaps surrounded by, realists. And you understand how I feel.

For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to write and perform stories that entertain and engage people, bringing them into the worlds I create in my imagination. I used to round up all the neighbor kids and get them to dress up and put on "plays" for the stay-at-home moms who kindly handed over a nickle to see the shows we made for them. Those plays were mostly adlibbed flights of fantasy constructed willy-nilly by the kids as they went along, based on a loose interpretation of an idea we would discuss briefly before the production began.

Usually it was my idea, but not always, and everyone got to choose what character they would portray (often based on what sort of costume they wanted to wear). Clearly, with no structure or dialogue to follow, we never really knew where the play would go or when it would end. So we'd just keep on repeating some action, usually dancing - which primarily consisted of twirling around in long, colorful skirts we'd borrowed from our mother's closets, or random dialogue that may or may not have been connected to the very sketchy story line, until we all wound down and took a much anticipated curtain call.

When I was a young girl, my mother and father indulged me in this fanciful activity, feeling, I'm sure, that it could do no real harm to let me play and stretch my imagination, and likely thinking that it was simply a phase I would outgrow. The trouble was that I was a dreamer who would never outgrow my desire to tell the story of an exciting alternate reality and to want others to join me there. And while the little girl I used to be was encouraged to enjoy her fantasy, and the teenager I too soon became was allowed to participate in drama class and church plays, when it came time to choose a career path, that option was immediately eliminated. There was no question of college if my major were to be drama, or communications, or anything of the impractical sort, which would not result in a safe, secure job after graduation.

Being the "good girl" that I was, I followed the path my parents set out for me and chose a practical major that has served me well in the "safe and secure" department. On several occasions throughout my life, I've made forays into writing or acting, striving to reclaim that dream. And I have done so on a few occasions and for a little while; but for the most part, reality has always intervened and nipped that dream in the bud. Time and family pressures have wiped the shine off the dream and opportunities have been allowed to slip away. Unfinished manuscripts are stuffed into a closet to yellow and fade, and  the role of a lifetime is given up in favor of the role of wife and mother.

* With a wink and a nod to The Monkees, I am still a Daydream Believer, even though I have been unable to reach my dreams. I still keep thinking and hoping that one day...maybe one day...