A season for fantasies

I love the fall. Not only do I love the clothes, the weather and the food – all those yummy fruits and vegetables piled so seductively at the grocery store – but for me, it’s the season dreams are made of.  Not the dreams that one has unpredictably while dozing, but those dreams that carry my thoughts away while on the TTC or waiting in the car to pick up the kids from school.

These dreams are my alternate fantasy lives, where I live out my existence in an alternate universe of my own fabrication.  And, in those alternate universes – it’s always fall.

Fantasy 1:  I’m a twentysomething editor at the New Yorker, living in Manhattan and pursuing my post-undergrad dream of becoming a prolific writer, documenting the serious issues of my times in a unique and contemporary way that is both profound, witty and rife with pithy, literary references.  I’m at my ideal weight of 115 pounds, and my hair is bouncy and long. My wardrobe consists only of tweedish miniskirts, colourful wool tights and a myriad of funky, boots, accented by cozy, fitted turtlenecks and radiant skin. I live in a Soho loft that has an exposed brick wall, and off-white sofas upon which are strewn multi-coloured cushions in varying shades of saffron.   Soft jazz plays in the background, as I sip my mint tea and write brilliant musings on my Apple computer.  My weekends entail walking thoughtfully through Central Park (of course, this is where fall is keenly profiled as the trees in the park are resplendent in array of warm, cinnamon colours), spending introspective afternoons at the Met, and sipping coffee in artsy Village cafés while I work away on my book, which I’ve already sold to a large publishing house.  In this fantasy life, interesting enough, there are no other lead characters – I am alone.  At a phase in my life before love, marriage and children.  I’m at time in my life when everything is about me, and achieving my dreams.  I sometimes feel guilty about this element of my fantasy – but since my reality is teeming with familial responsibilities, I think a little fantasy alone time is permitted.