#white notebook

“The ones who writes their dreams” they say. The ones like me.

I guess I was always desperate to write a good story that my mind started to make all my dreams in form of small separated stories. Some though, are longer than others, some are more realistic than others, some are more terrifying and heart wrenching than others.

On my defense,I never wanted to forget those dreams, I wanted to enjoy them for years to come, so I wrote them down, sometimes I wrote questions next to them and sometimes I found answers later on.   I love the genre of fantasy more than any other type of stories. since I was a child, I was always fascinated with the idea of breaking lines, the lines that taught me how the world supposed to work or how it should be understood, how we define certain feelings, or how we supposed to express what we wanted to say. While being exposed to different kind of media, there were plenty of great stories, movies and songs, that tackled familiar feelings and experiences with new approaches or new depth,but there were also those who didn’t, for the single crime of being predictable.

No, it wasn’t the predictability itself that ruined the deal for me, it was the so many questions that the poor writing of a material has caused to raise in my head, to the point that prevented me from enjoying or being emotionally invested in whatever I was getting exposed to. my young mind used to wonder on , how can they feel relaxed using overused expressions? or how did they knew that specific action has to be done to demonstrate affection?  how can we know for sure if two people really love each other when they use words that were passed down to them? How come they can’t come up with their own words to say that they care for each other?

Now as an adult, I understand that it was a concern with originality of everything, the more I think about it, the more I find that it does terrify me that I would live my whole life not being the organ of anything, and that I’m not clever enough to come up with a “starter” idea, if I may call it so. Therefor, whenever someone told me a story about discovering a new worlds among the stars or about a kingdom of snow found inside a wardrobe or about a hat that can makes you invisible,or about a man who can fly and obtains a power like no other in the whole plant or about a boy who stays a boy forever. I couldn’t help but to feel that world has yet more to offer to me, and that new ideas like these can expand my life beyond my experiences and all the lines I knew of. I grew up with a constant hunger for new concepts, that finding new concepts became an addictive habit, and that’s what my dreams has been providing me with.

White Noise - PVRIS

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