I had a dream once.
The kind of dream that is more of a fantasy. Like when you’re browsing through Vogue and you’re gazing a the pretty frocks, thinking “huh? I’d look good in that $3,599.00 dress”. You start to imagine a world where that actually happens. Where somehow you’ve made a life for yourself where you would actually spend that sort of money on a dress and you could actually go out somewhere to wear it.
In reality, that’s not the sort of life I’ve ever really craved, but that’s the beauty of fantasy – the practicalities don’t matter.
So back to my dream. It was the dream where I live in a beautiful rustic villa, up in the hills just outside of Florence. It was the kind of dream I knew couldn’t come true, because so many like me have already had that dream (0 points for me for originality). And they tend to be the sort of people who are wearing those Vogue dresses. So I allowed myself a dream, a little escape, where I imagined getting up in the morning to the bright sunlight – making a pot of coffee, sitting at the outside table, taking in the view. My friends are there too of course. We chat, the birds sing, Florence beams in the distance, full of culture and romance.
Funny thing is, normally one wakes up from a dream…