I Used To Tell Stories

I think I was about 10 or 11 when my dad would force my sister and I to have compulsory siesta because he felt we needed to rest. The thing is back then, I hated afternoon naps. I hated anything that was involved with sleeping. I felt that sleep was natures way of stealing time. It wasn’t till I went to boarding school that I discovered the beauty of sleep. 
I found a compromise between my Dads forceful siesta sessions and my anti-sleep campaign. I would lie on my bed and I would imagine. I would imagine a world that didn’t exist and it would be so clear and vivid. I would lie on my bed for hours and imagine an hour and a half long movie. I would imagine scenarios in class and how I wished my world was.
When I got into my second year in junior secondary school, I had ‘imagined’ my first movie trilogy. It was a not so lame movie about a superhero named Jaw breaker (okay maybe it was really lame). I would get my friend to draw the characters in my movie as I described them. I even gave the actors of my movies real names. It didn’t seem weird. It was normal to me. So every night I would gather my friend and I would be up till 2am as I told him the story of my latest imaginary movie. On days when I had no new movies, he would tell me the story a real movie I was yet to see. 
I think I was more trilled and captivated by telling the actual story than imagining it. But I could never quite understand how I would sit or lie down for hours imagining stories without my mind wandering away. 
Today, I no longer create imaginary stories or ‘movies’ and I just realised how I have over the years become too ‘busy’ and ‘mature’ and unfortunately just plainly ‘unimaginative’. So I want to retreat to my mind to create new stories so that I can tell those stories to a new audience. 
I also realised how easy it is too lose sight of our passions and giftings, to become preoccupied with résumés and CV’s, examinations and work, laptops and smartphones that we forget what really makes us tick.
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