When I was younger I could remember anything, whether it happened or not - Mark Twain
The imagination of the young is beyond comprehension. But what happens to this imagination, those endless worlds and possibilities as we transition into first adolescence and later adulthood? I like to believe I am something of a dreamer, a philosopher amongst my peers, but I never gave a thought to my lost imagination. I don't know if I even realized it was lost. Once upon a childhood I was able to imagine worlds and stories, to create a lifetime's worth of inspiration and pluck it from the air around me to become a part of my world. Where did all that hope, all those ideas go? I didn't realize it was gone.
The fact is my imagination came back to me in a dream, boring and generic though that is. In place of my usual dreams, a compilation of fragments from my everyday life, I dreamt of exploration. I found a place at the end of the world. A place of oceans, rain, peace and friendship.
This dream was so vivid, the colours, the rain, even the actions of my imagined self that I hope it always stays with me. But the intensity of this fictitious world has restarted my imagination. Reinvigorated my daydreams. Made me wonder about the world and what adventures there are waiting in my future.
All guilt about my carbon footprint aside, I have plans to travel extensively in my lifetime. Before the dream it was something I wanted to do, but in a half forgotten manner. This dream has given me understanding of what travel is to me. It is to explore and imagine different ways of life within the confines of reality. It is my adult imagination. It is adventure, danger, longing, beauty and discovery.
The imagination of my youth, which I mourn without the ability to ever return fully to its boundless opportunity, must now evolve to become the imagination of my adulthood; grounded in reality, in opportunities, missed chances, loss, and the future. The imagination of my adulthood is the imagination of the world.