My Imaginary Life

Now before you go chiding me about living in a fantasy, I'd like to issue the following disclaimer.

Who doesn't read stories or watch movies to experience a reality that is not present in their own life?
Who doesn't think up future actions, plans or ideas before they are carried out?
Who never wrote a headline that didn't come true when fearful about a certain catastrophe?

Aren't some things are too beautiful to be true! Thanks to my RL friend Cheryl who shared this lovely pic!

If you haven't experienced any of these things, you certainly wouldn't be reading a blog like mine. You'd probably be watching the nightly news, where you can vicariously enter into murder, theft, dirty politics, international espionage and the like.

So, for all you dreamheads out there, welcome to my imaginary life, hereafter referred to as IL, not to be confused with RL, which is my real life.


In my IL, I get up in the morning on the right side of the bed, make a sumptuous breakfast for my family which they gratefully eat, enhancing their mood and nutritional health greatly. I exercise for an hour and a half, after which I look like Miss America sweating in the footlights instead of a fifty-something woman who is mildly out of shape and arthritic. (RL)

My work for the day consists of straightening my well-appointed home, and whipping out a couple mind-bending chapters which my newly awestruck editor eats for his/her breakfast like the French eat Croissants and Cappuccino. (faithfully and with gusto)

I lunch with a stimulating and encouraging friend who, while gently brushing away my faults, manages to mention all my finer points and recommend me for the artsy project at church (RL) that I was salivating to sink my teeth into.(I never overeat at lunch in my IL, btw)

My afternoon flies by, because the children arrive home from school with tales of all the teachers they have wowed and all the lovely friends they have made, and the top marks they have achieved on their report cards. (not too far from RL)

My e-mail inbox is brimming with people begging me to come and speak to their various groups about such topics as "How to Write a Best-Seller" and "Achieving Family Harmony" and "Recipes for the Modern Christian American Godess", rather than 15 credit options, an enhancement drug offer and somebody wanting to give me a $1000 Walmart card. (RL)

My husband slips in the front door with flowers and my favorite perfume, whispering in my ear the name of the sweet little spot he's taking me for dinner, and I fall into his arms, taking care not to muss my freshly applied make-up. (I'm not going to go here with comparisons, except to say that in RL my makeup has already worn into the first three layers of epidermis by the time he gets home)

That evening when we return, in my IL the house is spotless, and candles are glowing on every surface, as my children have completed their homework, fed the dogs, done the dishes, taken Grandma grocery shopping, and are relaxing and reading in the family room, while the family pets lie sleeping, fur free and contented.  (Read between the lines, people. RL seems to have an awful LOT of pet fur)

After a nightcap of herbal tea, I slip off to sleep, in a silk nightie while reading my favorite novel, which is almost as good as my own. Well, a girl can't have everything!

Expanding the Soul

Charles Dickens, born into a family whose patriarch was in a debtor's prison (is it even conceivable?) wrote a tale about a man driven to madness by his own visions of grandeur whilst living within the walls of such a prison. This man's daughter, faithful to his dying day finds work as a seamstress at the home of a wealthy, hard-hear-ted widow who nonetheless has secrets of conscience regarding the girl's family.

Her son, reared by shrewd parents, denounces the family business when the father's dying wish to 'make it right' is rejected by the wife. The backdrop of poverty and privilege, love and madness, weaves a lush but dizzying fabric behind the more obvious events in the lives of two unlikely lovers.

Before we see the deserving couple united, the rejection, abuse, disappointment, and bewildering circumstances they must endure causes their inner selves to grow, and nutures a truly righteous and unselfish spirit in them both. It is completely satisfying to watch this struggle make them better human beings, or quite possibly bring out what was already the seed of goodness in them. Perhaps better yet, is the steady and heartening realization that we all have circumstances from which such hard-won goodness can be forged. It is  so much easier to watch someone else and see their progress. Their pain is not quite so personal!

I am amazed that Mr. Dickens' stories can be portrayed by modern means and touch me in such a meaningful and relevant way.
Bravo to the BBC!