Day Dreamer

Having been encumbered during all of last week, as well as the beginning of this week, with the latest and final installment of the Harry Potter story, I have regretfully neglected some all-important priorities in my life: namely my husband and this blog. My husband, whom I will hereafter refer to simply as Hubby, has expressed to me his heartfelt feelings that he will indeed be very glad when I complete, and therefore rid myself of, this ever intrusive series of books. Apparently, since beginning book #5 of the Potter story a few weeks ago, I have been unpleasant to be around. Yes, allegedly I've been aloof, restless, impatient, listless, and short-tempered. In my defense, I had no idea I was behaving this way, and I certainly never thought to make the connection that these books were somehow a catalyst. Still, Hubby swears that when I distance myself from that magical world, I am a much happier, more loving and affectionate person. He claims, for instance, that during my few days of respite between the 5th and 6th books, I was a complete and utter sweetheart (as I usually am - no surprise there!). I admit it probably doesn't bode well that when I am interrupted from my feverish reading, it takes me a minute or 60 to resurrect myself from the fog. And...well alright, the long periods of watery-eyed unresponsiveness, where I sit and stare in silence while brooding over the lives and possible deaths of various characters, not hearing or unconsciously ignoring anyone who dares to intrude upon my reverie by asking insipid questions such as "Cup of tea, darling?" may be a bit disconcerting. But, I'm sure all of that is normal behavior, yes? When I was immersed in the Dune series a few years back, I desperately wanted to live the life of a Bene Gesserit. I thought about what I would do if I were a Bene Gesserit. Constantly. Especially when fellow subway commuters pissed me off. I only reached the end of book #3 in the Dune series when I made the decision to stop reading them, due to the fact that my interest in the storyline was waning. Likewise, with the Ender's Game series (absolute brilliant writing by Orson Scott Card, by the way) I found myself having great difficultly exiting that futuristic world after I laid the books down. And I shudder to even think about, to let my mind find its way back to, the twisted world of Clive Barker's Imagica, for the shear fear and sickening, gagging reflex I used to have while reading it. I barely made it through that one. So, I have always been able to effortlessly live in a story, to place myself in a particular world and even become a particular character if my heart agrees with it, or relates to it, or falls in love with it, or feels the reality of it, or finds truth in it...or if the writing is nothing short of superb. I just assumed everyone else was like that, too.

As a child, I had a "serious problem with day dreaming" and an "over-active imagination", or so I was told by my school teachers. I was always able to escape boring or unpleasant situations, or to avenge myself of the bullies who tormented me, with my ability to become someone else, someone better, through my day dreams. However, I think the older I become, the less I let myself exercise my imagination in that way, and the more I need books to take me to those other places. Obviously, as the child becomes an adult, so must the child take on the responsibilities that adulthood brings. Such responsibilities include little things like living in the clear and present and deciding who you are and what you stand for. While I immensely enjoy submerging myself in other worlds full of other possibilities, I will not let myself lose touch with what my real, everyday life is all about, or neglect those loved ones in it. That would be...well, that would be insanity, actually. But also, it would be pathetic and cowardly. And I'm neither of those things. My life, as it turns out, is sweet and the people in it are precious to me. Even when some days are sad and some days are difficult, I know what it's all about and that knowledge gives me peace and (for the most part) happiness. Sometimes, though, I need a little reminder. Thank you, my dear Hubby. That's one of the many reasons why I love you.

But now, I'm finished with the saga of Harry Potter and still reeling from the wonderful feelings of justice, of satisfaction and approval that the ending provides. I'm still swimming my way out of the strong current of that world, even if a bit regretfully.