OK, I have too much time, probably, but I had all this time from the beginning of times..., or my time...
I spent literally years dreaming, with open eyes too, mostly in company of some great music, mostly in the evenings, but it was not, it is not a rule...When I felt lonely, or abandoned, or pushed to be somewhere against my will, or in deep doubts about what has to be done, or... whatever, I dug myself into something, a dream, a fantasy and I built a story. I did a full story, names, colours, faces, characters, even furniture, architectural details, sometimes even drawn details... and I fought with myself not to finish it, to give it an end, just to preserve it, to avoid making an end to that dream, because the start was the most difficult. Mostly the start was something as small as a gesture of a stranger, a life time away from me,as far as every king of rock, maybe only a few meters apart, but not closer than Elvis. Sometimes it was a result of a deviation of a previous dream, that started as a result of a fantasy that I was developing before that..., but mostly that was a result of a wish.
I started to write, and I wasn't able to stop, it was more addictive than drugs are(to a junkie)or food or cigarettes. It took all my time, it had a curing effect to problems, to the depression, to that killing feeling that I'm loosing me, my independence, my integrity..., me.
I wrote pages, hundreds of pages, thousands of pages, so many pages, that I could make two dozens of novels out of it. The end in my dream, or fantasy was far from the end written down. I had a lot more time to rethink details while writing it. Twenty-four fantasies on paper, and about that much of an involution of that number of dreams that got lost somewhere on a path to creation.
I still do it, and I still have a desire to write it, but the keyboard, or the paper, don't have that attractiveness as it use to have.
Now I have my fantasies. I do think about details too, for example, today I developed this story after watching the 'Granod Designs' with Kevin McCloud .
I know he's much older than me, I know he's a husband and a father of four, and half a continent away and a life time away, but it a fantasy, a dream, remember?
I used a previously 'made' house for it, a house that was the result of a combination of my own taste and one of the buildings he presented, he shoot somewhere in England I believe, some time ago. Circles combined with straight walls, right corners and a balcony into a house, a nice fireplace, a high-tech kitchen, a very bright living space, wood combined with stone and bricks typical for the ,area a big library in the working room, a fully feng-shui end of my house. Ecologically friendly, no useless parts, no dead ends, no wires anywhere, not in and more important no wires on the outside of the building. No cables, no visible cooling devices, no cable-TV boxes, no cameras visible on the front, and for the biggest painting on a glass wall just the sunset. maybe some curtains, dark red or orange, silky sheets fluttering in the early evening sunshine on a way to a nice domestic green garden on the back, or better said, between the endings of my home.
It's because he speaks with his face. He speaks with his eyes, his expression is far more eloquent than of anyone I've been watching on TV, doing documentaries. No limits for him, he can say, and he's saying whatever's going on his mind. A great combination, and even if most of women I know would say that he's nothing special, I've been falling for this kind of men, always...
But I did it in fast forward. I did it like I do with all fantasies in the last years. Quick thoughts-dreams.
It's a sign, I'm OK, probably, like I am right now, and just that lack of male company lately, make me think about someone specific, like him, someone, that do exist..., or is it lack of a beautiful home like the complicated house I made up some time ago.
