Daydream

In my daydream, he is perfect. He knows the right words to make a girl swoon. He knows what to do to make me laugh, even when I’m having a very hard day. He’s strong, always happy to lift me off the ground and swirl me around. He always gets the effect he’s looking for. I’d squirm and scream in delight and fear at the same time. His smile lights up my world. We are perfect together. In my daydream, he lives to make me happy. He always says that. He once told me I was the best thing to happen to him besides giving his life to Christ. He says I am Gods precious gift to him. He is a mentor, a fan. He calls himself my number one fan, which always makes me laugh. He never scorns me, never yells at me, not even when I deserve it. He corrects me lovingly whenever I make mistakes; and when I drive him crazy, he usually takes a long drive, comes back home and wraps me in a tight hug. No words. I try not to drive him crazy too many times.

I love him in my daydream.

He is witty. Whenever we are out together, he introduces me as his best friend, then sits back and observes in amusement as other men try to ask me on dates. One time, his friend kept asking him over and over, “You’re sure she’s your best friend?” It was hilarious. I don’t know how he managed to keep a straight face and answer, “Yes, Mark. She is.” Mark would once again attempt to entice me into going on a date with him. It would fail. I would exchange knowing smiles with my man that Mark would pick up, and ask the question again. He was so confused. I felt sorry for poor Mark.

In my daydream, I have the perfect relationship. He loves my family. My parents love him. They call him ‘prince charming.’ It’s so funny. His parents adore me. It’s all a girl could wish for. He always comes up with the best ideas for dates and trips. We have so much fun together. We are wrapped in our own beautiful world.

In my daydream, I am happy.

I never want to leave my daydream. It has become my reality, my solace. Somewhere deep in my head, I know it’s not true, it’s not real, I’m not this happy, but I push that away and bask in the comfort of my daydream. I don’t know how to come down. I don’t want to. I was lost, but with the daydream, I feel found. I feel whole. He found me, and my life has been colorful ever since.

The therapist stopped the voice recorder. The room was quiet. He spoke up, “What’s his name?”

“W—what?” I asked as I sat up from my supine position on the couch.

“You never gave him a name. His friend Mark has a name. What’s your husband’s name?”

“Oh. His name is…he has different names.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you think will happen if you give him a permanent name?”

“I—I think he will cease to be such a joy giver.”

“And you say daydream, not daydreams.”

“It’s a daydream. It’s one long, continuous daydream that has become my life.”

“Why did you come here, Lucy?”

There was a pause. “I want to join him. I hate the gaps in my daydream when I’m forced to come back to this world. It’s too painful. I miss him so much.”

“That’s why you tried to kill yourself?”

I shook my head. “No. I tried to kill myself because everyone thinks I’m crazy, and I don’t think I fit in here anymore.”

“Lucy, your file says you are suffering from pseudologia fantastica. You’ve been forced to visit six mental health facilities. I’m your seventh. Do you think you live out your daydream in real life?”

“What is real life?”

Dr. Morgan nodded. He walked over to the couch and sat next to me.

“Lucy,” He whispered, “I want to help you, but I’ve been doing this for a long time and I have come to realize that my patients have to be willing to be helped in order to be helped. Do you understand this?”

I nodded.

“So, do you want me to help you? Are you willing to be helped?”

“I want you to help me join him.” I whispered back. “Can you do that?”

Dr. Morgan was quiet for a very long time, his brows furrowed and all the lines visible on his wrinkled face. “No.” He finally said.

“Then I have no business here do I?” I asked, stood up and walked out of the office. Dr. Morgan did not try to stop me.

I gave my wristwatch a quick glance. 7:50 pm. He would be home, preparing dinner. I smiled. We had agreed to watch a movie tonight. Depending on the movie, I would cry sometimes. He would kiss my tears away, caress my face softly, and whisper sweet nothings in my ear until I fall asleep in his arms. I was looking forward to tonight. It would be a very good night.

Image credit: Britannica Kids

I have included some links to scientific research articles in case you want to know more about pseudologia fantastica.

4 thoughts on “Daydream

  1. You know what M, I frowned at the syndrome on reading but then I told myself…”C’mon, get it in english” and I interpreted it as “fantastic but false logic and reasoning.” And with such state, I’m wondering how sufferers can actually be healed. But then I’ll follow your links for further enlightenment. Pseudologia fantastica is a bad place to be…Quite enlightening…and it also creates awareness.

    Your write-ups keep heart and mind attentive till the very end.

    Keep it up M!

    Like

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