What happens when you wake up one morning and with perfect clarity realise something new and totally unexpected about yourself? Perhaps it is not "new" new, in the conventional sense of the word, perhaps it's been there this whole time... But it is new to you; it is new because your twisted mind (and twisted is a positive thing) has just made the realisation. So... you wake up this morning and make this discovery - you are a fantasist. Not just a mere daydreamer - no, you are of a different kind. You actually believe in those stories your mind spins up. And I don't mean stories as in "boost your self-image new age self-talk". Oh, no - no! I mean big time! Like grand baloney that you deep down recognise are far from this reality, and still, your brain somehow manages to convince you that the universe will make a cosmic exception especially for you.
So what do you do at this moment, I ask you? When you finally register that everything you read in the big books - the pompous gibberish about the importance of dreams, life goals, high expectations, everything one might call "a life plan" (what a terrible expression... as if one can plan a life!) - so what do you do when you finally register it's a big fantasy? I will tell you - you start living the double life of a fantasist.
The morning in question (the morning of the revelation as I call it), was nothing out of the ordinary. Had my coffee, listened to the radio on my way to work, gazed aimlessly out the window of my car. Suddenly - poof - there it is! The insight - wacky fantasist is what I am! And that's how it happened with me. No special signs, burning bushes or celestial voices - I'm not deranged after all!
The second thing that came to my mind is that I need to do an inventory of all goals/dreams/purposes. While doing so, I also decided one thing for myself - all those preachers of new age positivism and all-your-dreams-will-come-true philosophies need to shut up right now! Because it's not true! Just ask the millions-billions (or the exact corresponding number) of people who died bored after having perfectly boring uneventful lives and made 0 (ZERO) dreams come true. I'm not a pessimist - after all, I'm a fantasist (pun here!) - it's just simple arithmetics... Millions plus billions, plus whatever-corresponding-number, are the proof that dreams DO NOT come true. At least not the real ones - the ones that deserve to be labelled Dreams with capital D. They remain there with you the whole time, they obsess your mind suddenly, often causing irrational sadness, or determination, or anger. Sort of like a fly - small but distinctly buzzing, especially if the room is empty. You know it's there, yes, but you also know it's possible to be called a lunatic if you obsess over a fly. So you keep your little dreams in your head, mindful of their buzzing, a constant reminder that you cannot stop going forward, and you officially register in the "fantasists for life" club.
Artwork by Kevin Roodhorst