I want to live in a place where having a car doesn't define my life. I want to spend my evenings strolling the streets and looking at galleries through the windows. I want to be done with reading books because I have to but because I want to. I want to be surrounded by creative people in my field because it really will make my life seem less like a constant uphill battle. I want to eat cheese and crackers with Merlot for dinner and have a cheap croissant and coffee for breakfast the next day, everyday.
I want my bed to be on the floor, my ceiling covered in Japanese lanterns and all of my bookshelves littered in dripping candle wax, magazines, tear sheets and interesting books. I want the whiff of incense to always be near and a bouquet of roses to always be affordable to me. I want to sleep in silk and live my life in cotton. I want to always be inspired and never bored, although I already know that will not always be the case. I want to dance like Audrey Hepburn but ready to fight like Katherine Hepburn. I want to be a hopeless romantic like Marilyn but never be taken advantage of like she was. I want to be strong, self reliant, whimsical and constantly flowing.
Sometimes nothing more goes through your mind. The present is the past and the future is only countless days away and it captivates you to a point that you can think of nothing else, breath nothing else, eat nothing else, dream of nothing else but of a time that does not yet exist. I call myself a dreamer because I know no life other than it. Ever since the enigmatic imagination of ballet entered my life I have known nothing other than dreaming. That is probably why fashion captivated me as much as it did and why vintage fashion captivated me even more. It is probably why I am more interested in seeing an image than reading it's caption or why the feelings of clothing is more important to me than the technicalities. That is probably why I can be swept away by just a glimpse if something that may be much larger and complex but it's that glimpse that took my breath away. What is the life of a dreamer but the lack of reality? The lack of the hard and painful agony and tears that in reality play hand in hand into the life of a dreamer.
I re-watched my favorite movie Moulin Rouge this week and was reminded of what it was that captivated my heart and soul at such a young age. The Children of the Revolution. The bohemians. The life dedication to truth, freedom, beauty and love. These are the things that persuaded my adolescent mind into the mind of an artist. One that would rather die than be denied the ability to create. One that would go through countless struggles, constant rejection and still pursue a dream that seems to big for even her to handle.
"Something darker than jealousy and stronger than love began to take over."
Although this quote from Moulin Rouge was referring to the heroine Satin's prolonged struggle with death from emphysema I think it can be taken into context for the life of a dreamer. This is such an accurate description for what that feeling feels like when something sparks inside of you and your adrenaline starts to rush and your heart starts to race and your mind is going a million miles and hour and you feel like you need to run and run until you get to that point where you've made it to where you wanted to go. Even though running will never get you there but for a brief moment you feel like it will. Like if you just keep running, away from everything, towards everything eventually it will arrive or you will. To that place you've always needed to be but never knew it until that very moment. It is an enigma that feels so concrete, like it is just within your grasp and that is the thing that gets you all the more agitated and motivated. It's that almost feeling. Like if you try just a little harder you'll finally have it, and you just keep trying and trying and trying.
