When I was a child I would spend hours staring at the shapes in the ceiling. I would stare for hours and overtime I would start to concoct little stories involving the shapes. I even had an entire world that I had created on my ceiling.
Now 40 years later, here I am again staring at the ceiling. The good news is that they stories are still there after all these years. Gets me to thinking how much we gain as young people during the hours of absolute boredom. I do not remember being bored, but I know that I once was.
Maybe we need these times of respite, absolute nothing. When are dreams born? Stories created? Imagination sparked.
I think I will crawl out of bed and open the doors on this wardrobe and see what happens.
Guy Reams
