Remembering when I liked my dreams better than reality? …Sometimes I still do.
So I kissed a boy in the rain today.
For some reason the thought was so much better than the actual carrying out.
So why is it that we dream? We imagine this ridiculously romanticized situation and we want it to happen.
I guess I might dream it up because it can happen, I can kiss a boy in the rain and it would be wonderful right. But then when I get to the actual doing it’s never the same. I mean it’s nice it’s just not “perfect;” its just not fairy tale feelings and perfect conversation. It’s awkward and off time and I’m actually getting kinda cold.
So maybe I dream it just because it can never really happen. I will never have a perfect moment. As beautiful and spontaneous and crazy as life can be, that scene in my head is just impossible; and I think that’s why I love it so much.
If we could really live out our dreams then what would be the point of having them. If perfect-cute-wonderful really is going to literally sweep me off my feet then why should I dream about it? I would just go do it, right?
So I didn’t kiss a boy in the rain…I just dreamed about it.
And my crazy thought of realization is that that might’ve just been better.