Reality Break

Every once in a while, I find myself in a situation where I pretend I’m in a scene of a movie.  It’s unpredictable when this will occur and it happens in bits and pieces.  Today this happened.  It goes something like this…

I’m sitting in a library waiting for someone.  I have my headphones on and a very dramatic lone piano is playing a melancholy tune. There are expansive windows in front of me with tinted glass, making twilight even more pronounced—the blues bluer and the yellows yellower.  I look around and the patrons are in their own little world. There’s a sad little man who is making the rounds with a surplus of bags hanging off his arms and shoulders, passing me again.   Everything slows done and I begin to perspire.  I gaze out the window a bit more.  What am I thinking about? Am I pleased with my life or depressed that I haven’t become what I had hoped? I forlornly stare into the distance, pensive.

Scene break.  My husband draws me back into reality with a hand on my shoulder and it’s time to go home, walk the dogs, figure out dinner and catch up on the Walking Dead.  Back to my extraordinary ordinary life.  How I love these strange, unexpected brain vacations.