On lonely days, 'tis never more true
I dream of adventures to places unknown
This world simply will not do,So let me conjure up my own.
For what is hope, but the imagination of the optimist? And what is worry, but that of a pessimist? And what is an idea, but the dream of a curious mind, and a fairy tale, but that of a fantastical mind?
Imagination, to me, is the store of memories that no one else has, of stories that never happened, secretly conjured and hidden- treasures for a rainy day. A haven in which some choose to escape, where others find themselves.
Images never seen and music never heard. They're all hiding up there just waiting to be shared. But few of us do. Most are too scared of judgement, or worse, too busy to dream.
I implore you today, to go ahead and explore your mind. Daydream - it isn't such a waste of time as you've been told by those who wish you to imagine no other life, and no other reality than the one that serves them so well. They are afraid of thinkers, of dreamers, and would have them locked up, laughed at for being different. For that is where revolutions are born, where inventions created. New ideas, new philosophies, new schools of thought, all trees that began as little seeds that germinated in the minds of people who cared enough to water them.
So dream on and remember that this world would be a far less magical place without the stories, the ideas and the art that man dreamed up. For the possibilities there are endless, the beauty as incredible as the mind that created it.