Lately I've found that dreaming in my sleep just isn't enough. I let them seep into my day. I close my eyes and suddenly I'm somewhere else, somewhere I want to be. My mind escapes the dull rooms and rapid ways in which we've been taught to move, painting vivid pictures of landscapes and people, with vibrant hues surrounding me. There's something comforting that in these daydreams, it's silent. Completely absent of the haunting ticking of that second hand, running itself in circles. Today alone, I've been to the ocean, the mountains of Colorado, the deserts of Africa, and cruising along the western coast of this suffocating country. I've been in a tent under the stars, warm in those arms, and in a small coffee shop just outside of the city. I've also, sadly, been to New Hampshire. Somehow always awoken by the ticking of that second hand.
I believe dreams are supposed to tell you what you truly want---that welling desire under the distractions of routine, monotonous life. And I believe I've never had a stronger desire to leave this place than right now.
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