Sitting in that hard wooden desk, clutching a fat red pencil with no eraser, staring at a worksheet filled with repetition, not able to get up and walk away - well, that's my definition of hell. That's how I became a daydreamer. At first I tried very hard to finish each worksheet, but then I noticed something. The faster I did one, the sooner I got another one. So - I slowed down. I couldn't leave my desk except to go to the bathroom or sharpen my pencil, and there were limits on those trips. So - I left in my mind. Here's a poem about it:
Staring into space
(Special space)
Wandering mind
(Wonder place)
Drawing pictures
(I am there)
Not doing your work
(Saved my life)
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...is not a bad thing to be. Many of us called daydreamers as children grew up to be poets, writers, artists. I celebrate daydreaming. It saved my mind as a child. Here are a few of my daydreams.
Becca Burke Allison
Daydreamer
I was pretty old before I figured out that being a daydreamer meant I was a writer. Couldn't figure out why I chose jobs like cook and truck driver until I realized those jobs let me work for a living while allowing much of my mind to...daydream.
I continued writing. Now it made sense.
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