I wonder how many people actually think about the future so much.. and if they do what do they see.. the house of their dreams. A wonderful life. The ideal setting for you to spend the rest of your life in. But I've heard that it doesn't turn out that way. Well, I think people forget what they imagined years ago their life's supposed to look like where they are right now. It's just forgetfulness, not fate. But I may be wrong. But I sure hope that I'm not.
Because days ago, (I got news for myself), I think too much, I imagine too much. And I am way to romantic for it to be healthy. I've been through this a hundred times : I expect something and it turns out that I don't get what I want. I get my heart-broken (Yes, even if it's something as silly as what I want for dinner a particular night). And picturing the future is huge, very easy as it may be.
The idyllic settings don't just flash across every day infront of my eyes. It's like organising something that's complex to the point of being frustrating. Just sometimes. And sometimes I step out into the garden and it comes crashing down inside me. What I want and how I want it. And who I want to be with. Or who I do not want to be with.
About 15 minutes ago I had the most vivid and by far the most interesting and the most calming and euphoric sensation at the same time. A house in the woods.. on a mountain and you can't see the building until you're well near the gate. There's a garden, a wild garden. Wild roses. Wild flowers. Untamed, except to make space for an elegant vintage white iron table and a couple of chairs. Birds and squirrels.. maybe even have a birdfeeder.
A grand white house white a glass door and innumerable french windows. With red curtains, not unlike the ones that are in my room right now. A small pond to the right and a white swing with overstuffed red cushions on the left.
The ground floor still looks kind of vague.. but up the stairs and there's the bedroom spread across the whole floor.
And the kind of bed I'd prefer. A year ago it would've been a swinging bed. A round one. Hanging from the ceiling with black satin. Or a large fourposter. Or a modernish water bed. Scarlet tinted windows on the bedroom floor, through which the sun would shine a personal shade of scarlet golden.
A few years ago I also wanted horses and a swimming pool, a tennis court, a huge field. I may want it again, but they're more or less useless. And anyhow, who has the money :P
Getting serious again.. in my bedroom I would bunk our for hours on end. Atleast one wall would all be covered with books to the ceiling. Another room would be all books, everywhere you see. With a beige armchar right in the middle, along with a footstool.
A wall niche. My reading wall niche. With a big window overlooking the valley. And a bunch of scarlet roses that grow right beneath it. I'd sit here when it would rain and I'd sit right in the middle of the room,on my very comfy armchair, on nights when I'd be scared of the darkness. While there would be Dylan in the background or the mellower songs of Gn'R or maybe classical works. On vinyl.
Or early morning on my hide-out on the terrace. Or late afternoon on a blanket spread out in the garden. With the birds chirping and the sun a balmy warm comfort, enveloping me like love does.
All day every day. Write and Read. Sprinking in a liberal amount of gourmet dinners and good movies. Kisses and hugs. That's Utopia.
I'd have a dog and two cats. Or give or take a couple. And fish.
Too much wilderness and a little sunshine. Lots of rain and fog and mist.
Imaginations like these ought to be written down, or they're lost when life makes you busy. It's also an attempt to make myself work towards something so I could get what I want right now, when at times I won't want it, and I'd love to settle for something that's not remotely like this.
Or when I feel I'm not worthy of anything. But I am. 'Cause this all.. it's already mine :)