We are all quick to share our dreams because there is an understanding that we have no real control over our subconscious, so who can really blame us for the twisted stories we conjure up? Daydreams are another matter. Those are entirely willful, and more often than not they are also embarassing. But I think there is a ten year clause in which you can freely confess daydreams from one decade prior without any risk of scorn. After all, who wasn’t silly ten years ago? So now I will tell you about a strange series of daydreams I would invent when I was in middle school. Of course there were the typical daydreams involving the cute boy in class (whoever that was at the time) but I also favored another brand of daydream. These were strange. I remember daydreaming that I would wake up one morning and be a giant. Not some mythical jolly green type giant, but a normal pre-teen girl who had gone to bed measuring 5’3″ and awoken to find herself 7’3″ or thereabouts. This sounds like the premise to some campy Rick Moranis movie, but in my darling little middle school imagination it was far from it. It was a serious matter. In my daydreams the giant-me would find that, despite her unnatural growth spurt she was still required to go to school and attempt to conduct a normal social life. In my daydreams most of my friends were not disgusted by my freakishly increased stature, they were fascinated by it. It catapulted my popularity. But it was not all a glorious ascent to celebrity. Suddenly I was moved into the center position on the basketball team. The pressure on me to perform athletic heroism was very intense. Of course, why wouldn’t they expect great things of this newly mountainous girl-star? But the pressure was too much. I never asked to be this tall! I want my normal life back! Such were the angsty comments my daydream giant self would spout forth at the climax of the daydream. No one understands!
And I had complete control of my brain the entire time, as daydreamers do. I don’t understand my pre-teen self.