The Dreamer

I always had been a strange sort of person, I dreamed too much of the future and wouldn’t live in the present.
I dreamed of things that would never happen, that could never happen, impossible things.
That is why I wrote, I could write about my dreams, turn them into stories.
My thoughts and emotions would go round in circles, I would try to be happy, but it was like a labyrinth in my mind.
But however happy I became, deep inside I still felt the same. I would just write, year after year at the same desk. I would watch the seasons rush passed my window, the pattern of the leaves falling and growing; Fall, bud, grow, die. That would go on and on.
The days seemed like years but would pass in a flash as I watched the different times of day; dawn, day, dusk, the darkness of nightfall.
I would write on and on, my desk slowly filling up with my dreams written out into stories and poems. Now I sit here in a pile of paper, feeling happy but empty. I had lived my dreams in my mind but had forgotten to live the life in front of me.
I never thought I was asking too much, but now I sit here, old and fragile, realising it takes work to make a dream come true. My dream was truly impossible, that’s what imagination is for.
I had always dreamed of hopeful worlds with wonder and enchantment, places where adventurers are, who fight for their rights and protect what is good. I dreamed of doing it with them, I did in my mind while the real me just watched the seasons go by, the pattern of the leaves falling and growing; fall, bud, grow, die.
Sometimes I would cry myself to sleep in my lonely empty house, but then I would dream of the things I would be doing. Sleeping in a peaceful dark wood, fireflies and fairies dancing around me and I feel comforted and warm, as if I was the there, by the fire that was keeping me safe and protecting me against the cold winter winds.
Even though in a way I lived my dreams, I still wonder as I look at my grey hair, if it was worth not being able to live where I actually was.
The big oak tree outside my window’s leaves fell, then they started budding, soon its green leaves were momentarily back before changing colour to beautiful orange and gold.
Dawn lights up my room and the sun warms the day. Before long dusk was here and it turned the sky a beautiful shade of pink, then darkness came, nightfall was my favourite time. As the first stars came out, I always made the same wish.
Years pass quickly and so do days, but in my dreams they can pass however slowly I want them to.