Daydreams Just Don’t Cut It Anymore

I used to be creatively absorbed in writing.  Depending on the
type of literature I had just finished reading, I would mimic the writer’s
style in whatever poem/prose inspired work sprung from my mind’s eye,
but now it seems that writing has taken second and third place to
nothingness and sleep.  I suppose the thoughts that occupy my time
don’t provide for very much creative license besides day-dreaming
involving money and travel.

My day-dreams surround my going to India with some good friends during
my intern year as a psych resident, meeting some cool, rich Christian
Desis and having a blast; or meeting a homeless bum at ‘buckles, being
nice to him and finding out 3 weeks later that he was a billionaire
Christian man in disguise who wants to pay off all my medical school
and credit card debt, buy me a new car, invest in stocks in my name and
set up a trust fund for my future children (all out of the kindness of
his heart); or  joining Curves when I’m an intern and losing 60
lbs in one year; or meeting an actor who makes it big and lets me tag
along; or buying a nice house somewhere and decorating it; or being
fabulously wealthy and jaunting about the world meeting new people,
developing new psychiatric models of therapy and giving well attended
seminars for which I am handsomely paid.  Notice anything
here?  All my day-dreaming has to do with mundane things like
debt, residency and travel. 

Well, perhaps not too mundane but not too fantastic b/c all of these
daydreams could happen–well, maybe not the billionaire one–but
still…I don’t dream anymore about traveling through the universe in
search of love on the Starship Enterprise II as a psychiatrist or an
X-man mutant with healing powers of touch.  I think it’s adulthood
with all its insistence on responsibility, independence and
whatnot.  While other people are dreaming of romance, I’m dreaming
of money.  When I was younger most of my daydreams involved
finding true love and romance but as time passed (without a date), birthdays accumulated
and school-work became increasingly more demanding; I traded in “Mr
Right” or even “Mr Right-Now” for “Ms MD-MoneyBags, World
Traveler”.  How nice would it be to have bucket loads of money so I
could travel, pay all my debt, send aunties and uncles on cruises and
never have to worry about the axles on my car falling off into the 3
feet of snow that Pittsburgh is currently amassing.

I’ve heard tell that I need to wait, just a little bit longer. 
That all will come out in the end.  Dude, money won’t roll in
until at least 5-6 years from now!  And let’s not talk about the
schooling involved with what I’ve decided to do.  Sigh.  I
don’t want to take any more exams.  I don’t want to study any more
textbooks.  I don’t want to sit for hours at six different coffee
houses reading, memorizing, doing questions and looking up correct
answers.  Wait, wait and wait some more.  I think I’ve spent
so much of what I know as life waiting that I don’t know what I’m
waiting for anymore.  An end, I guess.  An end to my
pursuance of this degree.  An end to fatigue, never-ending
checklists and realistic day-dreams.

So where do I go to find my daydreams again?  But more
importantly, would I want them now?  After living a bit of real
life, aren’t they way too fluffy and unrealistic for me?  When I’m
done with them, I’ll still have to deal with real life.  . 

About papillion

Intense Often Moody Transparent Exquisitely sensitive Animated Never satisfied Curious Eternal Romantic Creative Devotedly Christian Encouraging Multi-layered Loving Quick Judge Critical Forever evolving View all posts by papillion

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