The mundane and the dreams...

It is often in the moments of persistent routine and boredom that I find myself creating the most alluring worlds. As I try to ease myself into the mundane tasks required after a long period of recovery my dreams turn convoluted. Last night it was dragonflies with bright colours leading me astray, where to I wonder? If I were a psychoanalyst I would interpret that dream as some kind of repressed desire to forever wonder the life of sloth and fantasy of the past few months, letting supernatural creatures drag wherever they please, with no effort of my own required. However, I am no psychoanalyst. I much rather still inhabit the world where one day, maybe, hopefully, those fireflies will come and take me, and not unlike Alice, to a world where I have power, where I can change things, where I matter, I am relevant, where my destiny has been inscribed in my flesh and I can't escape it. It would be easier, it would require nothing but faith. Instead, I can only be that in my dreams. Maybe that's why I love my bed so much...