I have a tendency to romanticize things. And by things in this case, I mean people. Every night, because it takes me so long to get to sleep, I like to invent a story for myself to pass the time before I finally actually fall asleep. Sometimes these stories will last for a month or two, just because the background and scenario is so much fun to think about. For example, the latest one is about me traveling through Europe and anonymously blogging about the experiences. I’m living off the advertising on said blog, and I just met Liam Aiken in Paris (he’s just a normal person in this scenario, mind you. Also, don’t judge me). Once, I was on the Enterprise and had to help the crew defeat an Ender’s Game-like hive mind enemy. I also spent some time on the Battlestar Galactica, surpassing everyone’s expectations on board and becoming one of the youngest Viper pilots ever. That sort of thing.
But we aren’t here to talk about my shockingly-in depth daydreams, at least not as far as I go. Inevitably, in each of these stories, people from my real life make appearances. I videochat with Rachel from space about how lonely it is, or I bring home Lee Adama to meet my mom. Sometimes Bart is stationed up on the Enterprise with me, since he’s in the military IRL, and sometimes Ellen and Colton come visit me in the hospital after a big battle. That sort of thing.
Unfortunately, using real people in a highly fictionalized daydream of your life isn’t always a good idea. I’m always something of a tragic hero in these tales, and I have to go through a couple nights worth of torture and disappointment before my daydream starts getting happier. In any case, everyone who makes an appearance in these scenarios is also highly fictionalized, and sometimes it makes actual life a little hard.
Let’s take Bart for example. Bart, my old debate partner and current guy best friend. I honestly don’t know if, in real life, he still considers us best friends, since we haven’t had an actual conversation since about October, and even before that we only talked when I was having some sort of emotional crisis (which is, let’s be honest, often). He’s always there for me when I need him, but he’s far from what my subconscious makes him out to be. In my daydreams, he’s the Gus to my Shawn, the Ron to my Harry, the Marshall to my Ted. (I really should get some female examples) When I’m going the military route especially, he’s always eventually stationed with me, and we go on grand adventures and he stands up for me when unappealing people from my past (usually Mia, Zach, or Sean) try to undermine me.
The problem is that Bart isn’t like that in real life. It’s not that he’s a bad friend- it’s just that he’s a lot more distant than the Bart in my head. And so begins this vicious cycle of expectation and disappointment, because my actual best friend Bart is nothing like the Bri’s brain’s best friend Bart.
And then he sends me a message after almost four months of not speaking (he is in Afghanistan after all), and signs off with “Any way tell me about this roomate trouble and any of your latest exploits worth mentioning.” Let’s be clear- Bart rarely asks me about my life unless I initiate it, because that’s just how he is. He lives in the present, and he doesn’t care where you came from or what’s been going on. He just wants to know what is important in the immediate present. Except this time.
Then it occurs to me that even though my romanticized version of him is a little exaggerated, it’s based off truth, and honestly, I don’t need imaginary Bart. I’ve got real life Bart, and that’s absolutely fine.
And that made me think about all the people I give cameos in my daydreams. I don’t romanticize people because I don’t like how they actually are. I love who they actually are. Who they actually are is awesome. Heck, I like who I am, yet in my daydreams I’m a kickass intergalactic soldier, or a flighty world traveler with no important material possessions. I could never actually do either of those things, and I don’t particularly want to. I’m completely happy with who I am. Sure, I’d love to be a bit more in shape and a bit more badass, but who wouldn’t? If anything, now that I think about it, these fictionalized and romanticized versions of my life only make me like my real life more, because it’s a heck of a lot more interesting when I’m not calling the shots on everyone’s lines and behaviors. Life is about not having control and learning to accept that. And maybe it’s time I did.
