Mondays are just young Fridays

I have a history of daydreams, periods in which my mind goes beyond where I am supposed to be to where I might want to be.
  Often, in my younger days, I was chastised for not following along in class, or not being present mentally or emotionally. Teachers and parents thought it a concentration problem, but in the end it was simply boredom. My mind needed to be active and, many times, school lessons didn’t allow for all that.
  Nobody understands daydreams – at least nobody seemed willing to accept that I could brighten up a dull, dreary math class (or other such meaningless event) by letting my mind travel to more important thoughts, or places.
  Daydreams, apparently, were bad things; things that interfered with productivity and purpose. Obviously I thought otherwise.
  Yes, daydreams take you away from the present, but perhaps there is a reason. Maybe we need to see the possibility instead of what is provided for us.
  Maybe a daydream signifies a better place, or idea, or something out of the ordinary?
  Don’t we already live with enough ordinary?
  So even now, a little older and questionably wiser, I still daydream. I’ve become quite good at it, in fact, many times I don’t even know that I’m doing it. But I enjoy the results.
  Daydreams allow you to exercise imagination, add colour to the confusion, propose solutions to the problems of the day, and help you cope along the way. Daydreams allow a little more latitude than we are normally permitted, and can help make sense of this thing we call life.
                                                                 j.g.l.

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