Permission to Daydream
Have we lost the art of daydreaming? Join me in reviving it!
There was a time, years ago, when I would climb a deeply bowed dogwood tree at my East Tennessee home and mold myself among its branches and just…drift. I sometimes brought a book and read it while reclining on an upper bough. But other times, I brought nothing but my imagination.
I was lucky to live in such a setting, and to venture out of sight—but not too far. Just enough for the sight of creamy blossoms, green leaves, azure sky, and shifting, ivory clouds above me as I traveled to other worlds in my mind. Or simply took in the beauty of nature.
Away from the trees, in darker and colder months, I would get out markers and illustrate all kinds of fashions for my galactic characters. And I would write stories alongside them. Or I would read books. (All of this after doing a considerable amount of homework, mind you.)
I was always daydreaming.
And then, at one point, I sort of stopped. The intrusions of stress and major life changes sort of broke that tradition. I would find it again, but it would take a long time. And often, it was found in nature, or on the open road.
Once in a great while, it would be while was sitting in a candlelit bar on a dark, rainy night in a cold, northern city. Nothing but me and a bowl of baked macaroni and cheese, and the understanding bartender on the other side of the bar. After our initial greetings, he would let me be, because he knew what I needed to do. I will always be grateful for that.
In another year and another city, I would place my elbows on the windowsill and look up at the Sutro tower as fog curled over it in a gentle, pearl-hued tsunami each evening. Sometimes after that, I would go to my little table and write.
Not so very long after that, I became a mother. And while I had two young children, I had little time to let my mind drift. I was busy watching how their minds forming, and not wanting to miss a moment of it. After they went to school, I grew restless. Something was missing. I had forgotten how to daydream.
I relearned it slowly. I picked up the old manuscripts, and in some cases, quite literally dusted them off. I began to dream of other worlds again. And this time, I wanted other people to come with me into them. That meant I had to finish some stories and get them out in the world.
You probably know how that went.
But still, life and stress got in the way, and tremendous grief, and I would forget at times just how to sit back and drift.
The big secret is that you don’t need to be languishing in a dogwood tree. You have permission to let your mind wander. I think it’s an essential practice. One which we learned in childhood, which is not often celebrated or encouraged.
This has been a tough year for me, after a series of tough years. So, recently, I decided to try my old trick again. I let my vision go out of focus. And I let my mind travel wherever I wanted to go. To far away star systems. To unsettling shadow lands. To mesmerizing fantasyscapes. And even back to East Tennessee.
A funny thing happened after that. Stories begin sprouting out of my mind. Of all sorts. While I have a long way to go, I’m returning to a form of creative productivity I’m not had in many years. I gave myself permission to daydream. I hope you’ll do the same for yourself.
Write on!
Jendia
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Jendia Gammon
