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Writer's pictureClara Raven

Daydream Believer



When I was at school, I was often asked to stop daydreaming out of the window. I couldn't understand what the teacher's problem was, as I was in my own little world with my head in the clouds, not hurting anyone else. I suppose I was there to learn but it felt so blissful wrapped up in my own thoughts that I couldn't see why everyone else wasn't joining me.


Now I'm middle aged, I have a different type of daydream going on in my head or just bits of old cloud, as I hardly know what's going on anymore. One minute I'm having a train of thought and the next thing I know, the carriage has come loose and it's lost down the track before I can retrieve it. Whole sentences start then have nowhere left to go.


I often go to use a word but totally forget what it is, so make up ones to describe them instead. Such as asking one daughter where her eye lookers are, when I mean glasses or if my other daughter has a pair of foot gloves, rather than socks.


I'm confused too. More than I used to be if that's possible. Just now, I told my husband that my older daughter's train was arriving in at 20.57 but when he drove to the station to collect her, he called me in a panic. I realised then that was the time it had left. I'm becoming incompetent and I don't like it.


On the plus side, I keep watching TV programmes or films with no recollection of, only to remember half way through that I've seen them before but I still can't place what happens next, so I get to enjoy the thrill of them all over again. At least my husband's memory joins me in this department. I just feel sorry for my poor children.


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