#daydreaming Tumblr posts

  • man Dragonball ain’t got nothin on the fight scenes in my daydreams 😤😤😤

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  • I’m so sick and tired of constantly daydreaming. I know for some people it can be freeing but for me its really not. The dreams are just close enough to reality to make me think it might be possible to achieve them. But its not. Its pure delusion. And even though I realize this, it still pulls me away and drowns me.

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  • So that’s the question: as the real world fighting coronavirus, did you add the pandemic in your paracosm plot too?

    I did.

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  • anybody have any daydream plots i can borrow? im running out of material ://

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  • i juSt want things to be okaY and stable. and I wanna build my own pc, get my degrees, live with my wife, and adopt two precious kitties and travel

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  • I’m at this point in my life where I have to live a double life; Mine and just one I imagine in my head and daydream about so that I don’t feel depressed and feel like dying everyday.

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  • Inside of the Ishgardian Republic’s parliament chambers, where one House Seat Representative, Corrina de Haillenarte, is currently daydreaming in the face of an Orthodox Church Inquisitor…

    “…Reported counts of petty theft, arson, and minor acts of terrorism…considerable risk in the upcoming years…age cannot be excused…Lady Haillenarte? … Lady Haillenarte, are you alright?”

    Ba-dump. A heart’s beat connects the elezen woman back to the moment. The Inquisitor looks towards her in curiosity. Concern bleeds off of his person for the noblewoman, and it is met with a slow blinking of her gaze to the task at hand.

    “Yes, Inquisitor? Forgive me, I just needed a moment to think.” Her hands fold together onto the desk, her office at the parliament warm from the flames of her fireplace. Patience radiates off of her countenance as she shuffles in her alpine coat of white, a bastion of professionalism once her mind cleared of distracted cobwebs. The inquisitor adjusts his dark-cloaked person before her desk, standing with the scroll unraveled between his hands.

    “On account of Jasper Greyborne – the orphaned son of the terrorist cell leader, Harman, he is being charged with petty theft, arson, and minor acts of terrorism. My Lady, we would need to bring him to the Tribunal for questioning.”

    “He is a boy of fifteen, clearly coerced by his father’s wishes to destroy the peace with Dravania,” Corrina interjects, for she must. Gloved fingers are pristine with a spotless fabric of white, interlaced and tightened by the force of her emotion that flows within her. “He has lost the only family that he had in the Brume and is now without parent or sibling. Must we truly charge him as a criminal? He is harmless.”

    “I understand that you have kept him as a Haillenarte ward, my Lady. But, this boy has caused much pain to others. It is even reported that he shot cannonfire at you, Lady Haillenarte.” The Inquisitor returns, their voice free of any sort of judgement. It is clear by their stance that they are simply here to do their duty, and she cannot find fault with that. Were she the Inquisitor, and he, the House Seat, would her words not be filled with the same conviction?

    “I intend for his penance to be served in the service of House Haillenarte. I am the one he gravely offended. I am the one that almost lost her life because of his actions, and this is how I wish to seek justice.” She wishes to be just as convicted as him. But, her mind is not there. It is floating on dark, sultry trails along her dream’s mental landscape that quickens her pace and stirs her blood.

    “There will need to be a formal report drafted and submitted to the Congregation and the Inquisition, my Lady. I am not certain it is a battle that you should be willing to take.” The Inquisitor touches on a subject that is very dire. Corrina can see that he knows of some of her most harsh criticisms – her willingness to put her foot down in the face of the Orthodox Church and the Temple Knights. As she slowly brings that gaze to him, the man finds himself flustered.

    “I – I am merely stating that my Lady has a reputation for making enemies needlessly.”

    That makes her chuckle. “…The boy will stay in House Haillenarte – where he shall be trained as a squire to my Knights and he will join my retinue for the rest of his days as penance. I will make the report and face the Inquisition should my decree be challenged. Is that all, Inquisitor?” Her voice is raised on an authoritative tone. It is meant to be imposing, a blatant, unyielding threat coloring the tip of her tongue and touching base to that part of their societal awareness. She is the High Noble here, and he is not. He is but a servant of Foundation, and he bends the knee to those as she. This is her throne.

    “…My Lady.” The inquisitor bows, recognizing the tone. It is one that has never been used from Corrina before, and he does not stick around to hear it happen twice. The departure is swift, and the Haillenarte is left alone with her fireplace and her thoughts.

    Sighing, she turns to the crackling pyre – a choice of guilt present. A choice she chooses not to take in that moment. Her mind retreats and her body remains on her throne, instead. She flees back to the decadent landscape of her sultry dreams, and a smile eases onto her face.

    #ffxiv rp#oneshot#haillenarte #house of lords #daydreaming #i'm in charge
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  • Daydreamer am I?

    Lost in this world

    Between wrong and right

    Between day and night

    What’s love and what’s lust

    These eyes stare so soft

    Forbidden is thee

    Daydreaming is me

    B.Howell

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  • ok are your daydreams based around a complex universe/world or are they based around certain characters? like i feel like i know my characters super well but i kind of just make up stuff about the world they live in as i go along, but i’ve heard of people who make up entire languages for their daydream universes which is so cool

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  • my para: says some smart/philosophical shit

    me, who created the entire scenario:

    image
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  • I’m tired but like, not actually tired

    like I’m the kind of tired where I just wanna lay in bed n daydream for a few hours before I get ready to actually fall asleep for 4~5 before I wake up to daydream again XD

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  • Just a doodle of Donald daydreaming on a cloud!

    So, I’m back and I made this to signal my return. I kinda abandoned this account for a moment, sorry…

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  • A longer Vent


    When I hear someone mentioning psychic disorders, I imediately think of my 12 year old self trying to find out what I have.

    Reading books about depression at 13, knowing that this is not even close to what I have.

    Reading about Schizophrenia, about hearing voices and having hallucinations. But I don’t “hear” them. They’re more like thoughts. Like Dialuges. And I don’t thing that those things are real, like yes, there is something uncontrollable to it, but if someone comes in I can sorta stop it. And can “project” the people into reality, but I can imediately “erase” them again. They don’t have a physical body, they’re no ghosts from death people like those in horror movies or stories.

    But what’s similar is that only I can “see” them. No one noticed it.

    Looking at a forum talking about OCD at 19, about not beeing able to stop something, about repeating things endlessly, even if you know you don’t want to go on. But most of them talk about every day situations, nothing that happens in their head.

    But how do things I saw in TV come into my head? I replay them. No matter how much I don’t want it.


    I listened to people talking about their disorders, they’re struggles, the sadness and the loneliness they’ve gone through. I felt understood, until they talked about their conditions. Not what I had. Something that was already known by society. Their is treatment for that. Understanding from other people.

    I’m jealous. Angry. Sad.

    I don’t even wanna be all those things, but I can’t deny those feelings.

    I remember ten years of listening to peoples stories, in tv, books, real life, in documentations, doku soaps, animes, everything.

    I learned about Addictions, Personality Disorders, Abusive relationships, Delusions, Illusions and Hallucinations, Mood Disorders, all sorts of Depression, about Borderline, Burnout and even more I can’t even add here.

    I learned about a thousand of physical diseases and disorders that all have treatment and experts and medicine and people who have understanding for it and support and selfhelp groups and support from insurances and they can even get an excuse for work.


    But no fucking person on earth was talking about the condition I had. So I gave up.

    After all those years I was just too exhausted to try it again.

    When I read about Madd it was - yes, a relief but also - a kick in the stomach, a gunshot in the heart.

    I was angry again. The symptoms were so obvious. Why did nobody see it?

    I was scared because it is creepy to have someone describing what you’ve been going through for years, in excrutiating details.

    I didn’t even know about all those symptoms, for example pacing. I don’t have to do it, but I can (and usually do) daydreaming while doing it.

    I found myself talking to an imaginary crowd of people in the bathroom after hearing a comedy show, immediately stopping when I looked in the mirror, ashamed of what I did.

    I remember starting to daydream, sorta realizing that I’m doing it, but also not really knowing what exactly is going on. Waiting till I’ve gone trough the emotions and then beeing smashed into reality again, several hours later, tired and exhausted. Hating myself because I did “The Thing” again, even though I know it’s bad for me and I don’t wanna do it.

    I remember beeing afraid because ‘what if those are some sort of prophecies and become real?’ Until I learned that they’re just my anxieties.

    I was so scared when I was younger that I didn’t tell anyone because 'if someone knows it’ll become true’.

    I remember everybody talking about puberty & growing up & romantic relationships and all I had were crushes on celebreties, fake imaginary boyfriends, a whole lot of delusions and a shit ton of violent daydreams I couldn’t even describe because neither did I have the emotional strenght & ability to do it nor did I have the words.

    I remember always beeing a little distant from my friends, not going out with them (out of several reasons, but also daydreams). I remember having memories of (mostly violent) daydreams, triggered by simple conversations with my friends when I was having fun with them.

    I remember going out dancing, celebrating with friends & dancing to same songs that caused me to have violent daydreams, knowing that I would go home have the same daydreams again.

    I remember listening to songs and interpreting my whole goddamn life into the lyrics, so that I totally forgot the original meaning of it.

    I remember saying to worried family members that 'I had just listened to a very sad song no there’s no otther reason I’m crying so despereately’.

    I remember staying up the longest at class trips to be sure that no one hears me crying when I had another daydream session.

    I remember watching a movie about 2nd world war & the nazis with the hole class, there was a child dying & I was crying. My best friend noticed and she was shocked and cried even more and then some other classmates (who didn’t even liked me) were also shocked and even more scared like 'Omg, if you’re crying then something really bad happened.’

    And internally I was like 'Holy crap how many years did I not cry in public & why is everybody so scared about it? It’s not like the world is gonna end when I cry. Like thanks for unintentionally putting even more pressure onto me about not opening up to others, because if I tell them about violent daydreams then they’ll gonna cry even more. And somehow me not crying gives others the feeling of safety. They even sorta look up to me as if it is a sign of strength? Sorry to destroy your illusions, but I cried every goddamn night for the last few years and I’m Not. Strong. At. All.’

    I remember hearing horrible stories about people doing heavily violent stuff to others and I was so weirded out by it because 'What those are not just my creepy thoughts like people are really doing this? Like Why? How is this possible? (I was so confused about it, even though I rationally already knew that people were doing it).

    I remember someone talking about beeing turtured at a public place (it was like some sort of speech) and talking to them afterwards and almost wanting to say that I know what he has gone through because of my violent daydreams until I realize that this is the worst thing I could do because obviously I haven’t been turtured in real life & what does it bring him other than reliving traumatic events? Like how rude of me to even think that it could somehow help him. And I don’t even have the words for it. Like, should I tell them that I daydreamed about it? 'Who the fuck daydreams about torture? Did you 'choose’ to daydream about it? No one does imagine such cruel things voluntarily.’ That’s what they’ll probably say, so I’m ashamed and emotional close myself up again in my little daydream castle to daydream about torture again.

    I remember beeing on another class trip seeing two people fighting violently, hurting each other brutally, even seeing blood. All I can do is trying to comfort my best friend and walking away from the scene (our teachers told us to go away because it was safer) beeing shocked not only by the violence but also by my inability to react and to stop it. Like years of thinking about how to stop violent people in my daydreams and all the solutions they don’t mean a thing in reality. 'This is how useless those daydreams are and how useless I am.’

    I remember friends sorta distancing from me, a feeling of disappointmend comming through, because they’ve told me their darkest secrets, now want me do the same. Because friends trust each other. Because this way we bove have some sort of guarentee that I won’t tell anybody about their secrets. Almost like an unspoken contract.

    Sorry, all you can do is describe the content of the daydreams, but you don’t have a traumatic event that explains it nor can you talk about the effects on your every day life. So you just shut up and sadly another friendship that ends up at the state of acquintances again.


    I remember feeling more understood by songs then by people around me.

    I remember looking for my identity in stories rather than asking the people around me.

    I remember the only times when I really felt connected to my friends were when they imagined to be someone else, like people usually do when they’re younger. But as I held on to the paracosms, people either just went on to reality or thought of it as 'childish’ and started to laugh about me.

    I wanted to keep the paracosms because I remembered the times when we created them and we had so much fun. I just thought that I couldn’t connect with other people on a deep level if we didn’t talk about stories and paracosms.

    I remember writing my Paras birthdays into calenders and people around me beeing weirded out by it. Or wanting to celebrate their birthdays with friends (they were celebraty paras) and they were just like 'why? Who cares? And what should we do anyways?’

    I remember trusting the people in my head more than any other person in my life.

    I remember imagining a thousand of conversations with persons from people around me but never beeing able to do it in real life.

    I remember going into relationships and not being able to talk about my daydreams, but also feeling like my partners are missing a huge part of my personality, so 'what’s the point of the relationship anyway? But do I really have to tell them about my daydreams? Do I want to?’

    Also 'if people will know about the content of my daydreams they will reject me immediately.’

    I remember not being able to write my own stories because my Madd is a copy machine and a bad coping mechanism, so I (unintentionally) stole content and put my personal content into it.

    I’m afraid I will never get understanding because of the stigma around it. What if even psychologysts won’t accept what I’m telling them?

    I’m afraid people will think that I was 'just lazy’ and did all this on purpose.

    I’m afraid people will just assume that I can just stop doing it, when I couldn’t do it for 12 years.

    I’m afraid some people will even think that this is just a joke. That I’m tricking them.

    Even if people would be understanding I would still be afraid, because I lived with those fears for so long.

    I could add more but this is getting too long already.

    I don’t even know what I wanted to do with this post, maybe I just had to get things out.

    Those are just my experiences, I don’t want anybody to be offended by this or feel like their Madd is not “as bad as this”.

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