Unconsciously, our minds control our thoughts. In the smallest ways, we are sparked of a memory that was stored deep within our cotton candy brain. It could be a scent that takes you back to the first time your dad showed you how to roast a marshmallow; it could be an image that reminds you of the winning goal you made for your soccer team 8 years ago; it could be a word that reminds you of the times your best friend uttered the inside joke: “hulk angry;” it could be a touch of the lake that pulls you into your summer daze with Michael and Alyssa. Our senses, our thoughts: they are one.
The surreal world that surrounds us pushes our body and minds to limits we did not know exist. Some days feel like giving up; throwing in the towel; taking a longer break; sleeping a little long. Today may feel like that day, but then nighttime crawls in and we are pleased. We get to rest our 10 pound thinking caps on our cloud pillows while reminiscing on the happy thoughts that trail us to sleep. It is in our sleep that our minds truly control us.
As I trailed to sleep this past night, I was taken into Wanderland. This is the place where reality and imagination collide. I have free capacity to create my desired reality within my fictitious institute. My wondering lets me wander, and so, I did. Unconsciously, my mind took me to a vague memory in which time has allowed me to digress. I was younger here, more innocent. I met with Eileen in a past life. Eileen was an old friend that I began to forget until my mind lead me back. Simplicity in that memory was my comforter, my guardian. Ever had a memory that immediately takes you back to the safe zone? To the time when nothing could go wrong? Where every step you took was relief? The time when everything was as it should be. That is what Eileen did for me last night – took me to the fantasy of what used to be.
All that Wanderland entailed for me is a keepsake, a treasure. The private island of relaxation. Although I may be making 100 calls in 6 hours time or running on 3 hours of sleep while finishing an assignment due at 10 am, I can count on Wanderland to lead me to my happy place. I imagine my Wanderland to consistently be filled with pastel colors and floating pizza; low-hanging vines and fields of fruit; neighbors waving every morning and every evening; roads glass paved with a babbling brook underneath where the fish flow peacefully; and each house stores up to 78 puppies at once. I wish for consistency; however, she always changes. The only constant thing she holds is my security – the promise that when I close my eyes, my stresses, fears, and worryings are over. The bliss in this day comes even earlier than your alarm clock but lasts longer than a Kardashian marriage.
So, where is your Wanderland?
How I Make a Safe Trip to Wanderland
- 1 cup of room temperature water
- 1 blanket full of life memories
- 3 Kardashian sisters yelling at one another
- 1 pump of aroma therapy lotion for my hands