I used to be content with dreaming. I could spend hours underneath bed sheets with only my brain. I’d make up stories and tell myself that the pine candle beside my bed really was a pine tree and the pillow where I rested really was a mossy landing and the cracks in the wall paint really were markings from a bear's claw. At the time, it was enough. Dreaming was all I had, it was all I needed. I could stay in my room and never be bothered because living in my head was much more satisfying than living where my body was.
Now that I am getting older, dreaming isn’t enough. When I try to turn pine candles into imaginary forests, they remain as candles and they don’t smell quite as good as they used to. Perhaps this is what happens to a human when they realize how much richer the world would be if only their dreams came true. If only I could wake up beside a real pine tree, maybe then I would feel alive again.
Thank goodness for pretty fairytale dresses! They make you feel like you're walking through the wonderland of your dreams :)