Daydreaming To The Extreme
The Life of a Maladaptive Daydreamer
I don’t know about being the black sheep of the family – I was too quiet and well-behaved for that – but the odd one out? It certainly felt that way and still does. I was the dreamer, you see. ‘Cloth-ears’ my mum called me, sometimes with affection, often with irritation. ‘She’s in a world of her own…’ they would all say, rolling their eyes because I had zoned out yet again…
And they were right. I was in a world of my own: one filled with books I devoured under the duvet at night with my torch; notepads I filled with my own stories and drawings; and daydreams that drew me in constantly, hijacking reality and cocooning me in an utterly separate world.
As a child, I really didn’t need anyone else. I was shy, quiet, introverted to a painful degree and I didn’t feel comfortable going out in public. I would always much rather stay at home with my characters…
I felt vastly different to the rest of my siblings and my parents, because I was. This dreamer side of me is not something I have ever seen in them. My siblings were louder, braver, stronger and faster. They were logical, practical and grounded in real life. They didn’t understand me and I didn’t understand them.
As a child and a teenager, I couldn’t explain it to them because I didn’t have the words. I do now. I believe I have Maladaptive Daydreaming Syndrome. I only found out about the existence of this syndrome about a year ago and I read the article nodding my head and saying again and again, that’s me, that’s me, that’s totally me!
Maladaptive daydreaming takes dreaming to a whole other level. People with this syndrome can disappear inside their own heads; make up vast and complex worlds and stories to visit while they’re in there; and they can shift in and out of reality to suit themselves. They are often seen making unconscious facial expressions as they interact in their daydreams, or they are heard whispering conversations only they can hear. I think I’ve been doing this since I was a tiny child. Maybe even before I could read and write, but certainly, once I had those skills, I was able to create worlds of my own to visit and immerse myself in.
As soon as I was able to, I started writing the stories down and that urge has never left me. I feel an itch to write, I feel it all the time. The more I write, the more I daydream, the more I daydream, the more I write. The older I get, the more dreamy and disconnected I become. I used to be embarrassed by it. I hated being called cloth-ears. I hated people getting cross at me because I didn’t listen, or I was staring right through them, or I just wasn’t ‘with it’. I’m sure a lot of my extended relatives thought there was something a bit wrong with me…
I embrace it now. I love it and nurture it. Being able to shift between the real world and the ones I make up and control is fun. It means I can escape reality any time I want to. And if those characters and worlds and stories get too big inside my head I simply write them down and publish them. It’s a bit like all my dreams came true!
And still, I dream on.
Every night, when I go to bed, I play with my characters and their worlds inside my head. I move them around, I make them talk. I make things happen. Sometimes this ends up in books and stories, but often it just stays in my head like a movie on pause… ready to go again the next time I check in.
It makes life exciting. I love being alone so that I can daydream. I love it when daydreams grow into stories I can write down and share. I am never bored or lonely, not ever. If I go for a walk, I take my friends with me. If I am on a long car journey, I lean against the window and jump into my made-up worlds.
This isn’t to say I can’t function in the real world. I’m married with four children and run my own business. I’m perhaps not as money-motivated as I could be (it’s never seemed that real to me) and ambition is something I don’t really understand. I just want to be happy and make others happy, so I found a way of doing that that also earns money. I run writing clubs for children and we all escape into our dream worlds together. Perfect!
Daydreams are not just for children and some of us still slip effortlessly between the real world and the ones in our heads. We are fine, just let us be. As for real dreams? Dreams for the future? Everything I ever wanted came true so perhaps there is something to be said for indulging in childish daydreams well into adulthood.
Thank you for reading! This was written in response to Modern Women’s August prompt question, tell me about your dreams…
