Imaginary Worlds, Real Longings
Daydreaming isn’t wasted time, it’s a rehearsal for the life you long for
The voice droned on, something about failure and choice, hard work and resilience. Words she’d heard before, too many times.
Her eyes drifted down. The firm plastic seat pressed into her thighs. The chill of the concrete floor seeped through her shoes. Tights itched against her skin. A pen rolled slowly between her fingers, a strand of hair brushing her earlobe, whispers of irritation.
The teacher’s voice fades as darkness cloaks her, waves of breath flowing in and out. Behind her eyelids, the grey of the classroom shifts into soft teals and crimson swirls dancing in the darkness.
And then, just for a moment, she visits the other place.
A stone clock tower rose above a sunlit square. People bustled at market stalls, the scent of warm bread floating on the breeze. Passing faces nod in gentle recognition.
Spinning on one heel, she decides to visit the cafe on the cliff. Climbing a grassy hill, inhaling fresh air scented with pine, then notes of coffee, finding the log cabin around the corner. Ordering a hot chocolate - always with cream - she sinks into an inexplicably comfy wicker seat with overstuffed cushions. Rivers of cream fall over the large mug, dark chocolate shavings slowly sinking into the white expanse.
Toasty fingers wrapped around as the sun descends over rolling hills in the distance, the vastness so beautiful. Beside her, a friend appeared, as if expected. No questions, no demands. Just presence.
The view stretched wide, rolling hills, the sun spilling gold across their ridges.
The clap of a book falling jolts her back to the cold, fluorescent classroom. Cold floor, plastic seat, droning voice. She sighed.
It may have been just a moment, but it was a beautiful moment, and one day she promises herself she'll feel like that for real.
I have worked with a few people now who have confessed to me, with flushed cheeks, that they have an imaginary world that they visit. Sometimes with elaborate characters and plot lines. The confession often comes with worry: “You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?”
But as long as they know what is real and what isn't, I have zero concern. In fact, this world is a wealth of information and often a good coping strategy. A resource. A map.
Take our young person above. What do we notice about the world she imagines? Undemanding companionship. Comfort. Nature. A slower pace. A chance to breathe.
Even without knowing much else about her, I can make some safe guesses. That she’s feeling unseen. That she’s craving nurture. That her real life is fast, perhaps too fast.
And that tells me something important: in my work with her, it matters that my therapy room offers those very qualities. Quiet. Slowness. Care. A space to be held.
It also tells me that we can look, together, for ways to build little pockets of that calm into her daily life, or at the very least, hold onto the hope that it’s possible.
Because sometimes the worlds we imagine aren’t just escapes. They’re blueprints.
📖What the Research Says: Why Daydreams Matter
Daydreaming fuels creativity and problem-solving. Our minds wander into future possibilities, often generating fresh insights. It’s not always a distraction; it can be a rehearsal for what's next. Far From a Waste of Time: 5 Positives About Daydreaming
It offers emotional relief. Allowing your thoughts to float freely can help reduce stress and anxiety. Many use it as a mental oasis when reality clings too tightly.
Performers use it as a mental rehearsal. Imagined scenes can prime the brain for real-world comfort or performance. Motor imagery Dreams of Glory
But there can be a dark side. When daydreaming becomes about ruminating or worrying, involuntary, overwhelming, or used to escape trauma, it’s called maladaptive daydreaming. This can disrupt life and emotional regulation. Maladaptive daydreaming: What it is and how to stop it - Harvard Health
Just a Moment, or a Blueprint?
Your imagined world isn’t just an escape; it’s a blueprint. A place built to hold what’s missing in life: belonging, rest, beauty, presence. It’s a map of hope.
Maybe one day, real life will feel like that sunlit café. But until then, these worlds matter; they’re not signs of weakness, but reminders of what you need most.
💛 Reflective Prompt
Close your eyes for a moment and let yourself drift into your “other place.”
What does it look like, smell like, sound like?
Who is there with you, or are you happily alone?
What feelings come most alive in this space (peace, joy, companionship, safety)?
Now ask yourself gently: What does this imagined world tell me about what I’m longing for in my everyday life?
If it feels safe, jot down a few notes. You don’t have to share them with anyone—the words are simply a map back to yourself.