A letter to the Universe ...

   I have just been given permission by my therapist to daydream! Yeeeeeesssssssssss!!!! Why are you so excited, you might ask?  Because I had never realized before that daydreaming was something I was allowed to do. I always thought it was wrong for me to daydream; so unrealistic and disappointing.  There are limitations which I placed on my life after having a child that I always see as roadblocks or barriers to having what I want in life.  I walk by Buy Buy Baby almost everyday on my way to work and I always have this daydream that I'm having a little girl (I LOVE my son, but little girls are so cute!) and the dad is there because he's my HUSBAND and he actually wants to help with raising our child together.  I start to think about us picking pink polka dotted onesies while grinning goofily at each other and then I snap myself out of it.  "Come on, Morgan," I say, "That will never happen so there is no point in thinking about it."  Then I frown and say "Bah humbug" and turn my collar up to the wind trudging the rest of the way to school.

   This concept of daydreaming being allowed is completely new to me.  I always thought I was not allowed because why torture myself?  Why give into fantasies of the things that will never happen?  But apparently this "daydreaming" phenomenon is linked to "positive thinking" (what are these random terms?) Apparently, if I can visual it, I can make it a goal and then maybe these things could  happen! What?!? That's nuts!!! So I've been on this daydreaming binge for the past few days; it's been like mental masturbation fest up in this piece.  Let me share with you some of my favorite scenes so far, in hopes that they will come true:

The Clean Room

I have this one daydream in which I walk into my apartment and turn the corner because I'm headed to the bathroom as usual (You know that's the first thing you do when you get home from work!) Anyways, as I 'm turning the corner I look to the left at Max's room . . . And it's clean! That is all.

The Savior Teacher

I have this other daydream where I do things to change kids' lives.  I mean, I'm teaching up a storm, metaphors and similes flying everywhere!  Dangling participles disappear and I have single-handedly rid the world of the word "conversate".  And then this one student, usually a girl who seems to be the size of a leprechaun but is actually 17 and has huge brown puppy dog eyes, comes up to me and says, "Miss Cuffie, you know, before, I really hated school and English and my life really.  But now that I have had you as a teacher I found new meaning in everything.  I mean, I've reconciled with my mom, I no longer want to ever have premarital sex, and my grades are so high that they had to add a 5.0 to the GPA scale.  Thank you, Miss Cuffie, thank you so much for sharing your wisdom with us."  I pat her head lovingly and tell her to go sit down.  "My work is never down!" I shout. Then I turn back to the Smartboard, which never randomly erases what I've just typed, and move on to talk of verb tense agreement.

The Magazine Mogul

Then again, I have this daydream where I'm not a teacher at all but the black Anna Wintour.  My locs are even cut in a chic, severe bob.  I'm wearing 6 inch leopard print Louboutins that compliment the neon pink pencil skirt I'm wearing with a black button down peplum blouse (You better work!) My nails are perfectly lacquered as I thumb through contact sheets of fall shoots and brusquely point out flaws and errors in all of them creating fear and anxiety in all of my employees.  No, not really.  If I really owned a magazine I would be nurturing and critique in a way that still made people feel as though they were valuable, just a little off base.  My magazine would be #1 in the world not only for its trendsetting and on point fashion forecasting but because of its multicultural inclusive appeal.  Every shape, size, and color would be represented on its pages; there would even be pages with models eating REAL food and liking it!  I'd win a pulitzer for my honest, probing, and relatable writing and the subscription sales would be through the roof. Oh and also, I'd have an assistant who brought me cotton candy and crab legs every day at 3.

The Sleep In

So this one I had Friday night: it's Saturday morning . . . and I'm still sleep!  I sleep till like 9 am! It is so wonderful; my bed is so soft and the covers are so warm and in the words of the hot guy I'm stalking right now, "I'm fucking the shit out of my pillow!" (Yeah, he said that.) This fantasy was one that could have actually come to fruition; if SOMEBODY (let's call him "Child that I gave birth to") hadn't woken up at 4 in the morning wondering why he couldn't get out of bed yet!  YES, I am still pissed about this and have the right to said anger until he goes to college.

The Date

Okay, so back to hot guy I'm stalking right now.  This is actually a reoccurring dream I have that I am now converting to a daydream as well (cuz I can do that cuz daydreaming is legal now!) Soooo, I'm in love with this guy who doesn't know I exist, as usual, but in this dream he does.  And no we do not have sex. We . . . wait for it . . . go on a date!  I mean a real date! Like I meet up with him and he pays and we have fun.  Sometimes its a concert, sometimes a walk in the park, sometimes a sculpting class (shoot me, I'm artistic).  The point is we have fun together and WE TALK. He doesn't bring up sex fifty million times and he asks me questions about me and listens to the answers.  And then he responds with his own and tells me about himself.  It's crazy.  We talk for HOURS.  At the end he says, "You know what? I really like you and I would like to go out again to get to know you better." Instant orgasm.

So there you go universe; work your magic.  I have put my hopes and dreams and desires out on the table and I am politely asking for you to MAKE IT HAPPEN! I know it's a lot to ask but the thing I'm also learning through therapy is that its ok to ask for a lot because I DESERVE A LOT. Wow.  That actually felt good to say.