The Psychology of Dreamers

The human mind is a truly incredible thing. It is the drive behind everything that exists today. All our hopes, dreams, and aspirations, no matter how different each person may be, are driven by the psyche. It is what separates us from beasts. Intellect, ingenuity, and emotion all come together to create something so profound, and yet, so simple. Add in instinct, willpower, and an instrument to communicate these traits and you get a living being with a heart and soul; A true human in every sense of the word. Yet through all these wonders that our mind can produce, people either take it for granted, living meager, pathetic lives producing nothing for the world as a whole; or abusing the power that comes with having higher thought and personal freedom. They force their will upon one another, taking away what every human being naturally has the right to: happiness, freedom, and a mind of their own. Yes, the world is full of two extremes: those who are selfish and care of nobody but themselves, going about their days ignorant of the other 60 billion lives they share this world with; and those who are conquerors, who are so completely "unselfish" (or narcissistic) that they try to change the world, creating a so-called utopia in their own image of what it should be. Their good intentions usually backfire, making the world worse off than it was before. There are plenty of places in between these two extremes, but most of the populace belongs closer to the former of the two.

Even now, as I sit in fourth period chemistry class, I can identify to whom which extreme is associated. There's Paula who is constantly texting on her "smart" phone, James and Isaac with their headphones in, blaring grunge music so loud the teacher had to confiscate their Ipods, and plenty if others in the room who I never bothered to get acquainted with. I bet you can guess to which group they belong to. I don't blame them though. In all honesty, one person can only make a true difference if there is equal strength on both sides of a cause and in the real world, both sides are never equal.

I don't mean to sound conceited or cruel. I'm just a very straightforward kind of person. When it comes to real life, one has to be ready for-

"Ms. Meyer, please answer the question on the board."

And then there's this jerk at the front of the room. I'd consider him as one of the In-Between on the scale of extremes. Though he is wrapped up in his own world, it takes some serious patience to stand at a white board for eight hours, spewing the same lecture every class period, all for the sake of a future generation who honestly doesn't give a damn. Now that's what I call dedication.

"Ms. Meyer!"

"What."

"The answer please. Or are you too busy writing in that diary of yours?"

Now he's just insulting my intelligence. I can multitask just fine. "No, Mr. Smith. The answer is 67 mol. And I wasn't just writing random scribbles, you know. I was contemplating life."

Mr. Smith turned back to the board to write. On the other hand, Paula turned to one of the other girls in class and whispered the word I used. "Contemplating," she mimicked over and over, as if she was shocked someone still used polysyllabic words.

"Yes, Paula," I say. "Contemplating. It means thinking. You know, that thing you can't seem to do."

"I can think perfectly fine, thank you. It's just that I never figured you had so few friends that you sat at home and read the dictionary for fun." With that, the bell rang and she, along with the rest of the students, left the room.

I sighed. I've got three more hours of this. You'd figure since private school is so expensive, the students would be at least somewhat intellectual. They aren't. Our school, no matter how well people speak of it, is full of the exact same type of kids other schools have. Ours just have extra money to waste.

I rise from the table I was sitting at, pack my things, and make my way to the third floor of the school building. At the far end of the hall sits my place of peace and quiet. It's the one room in the entire school where I can sit, eat, and sleep without having to go back to that wretched place I call a home. It's where I can pluck a random tome off any shelf, pretend to read, and take a nap: The library.

I walk in to the room, swiping my school ID card through the electronic reader. I glace around. All twelve of the round wooden tables are empty and the computers are all logged out. Not a single book was out of place. The area looked like it had been frozen in time, forever unchanging, like a painting or photograph. It was so serene I could almost reach out and touch the still-life image in front of me.

Just the way I like it.

I went over to the textbook section and began my search. It took a while but I was content once I found the largest, most boring-looking book in the entire school. This book would be my shield from the rest of the world.

I go over to the tables and pick out a nice seat by the window. It has a great view of our city. You can see the flower shop, the corner store, and the Starbucks all from this one vantage point. I take in the image, sighing as I set up the book, creating a wall between myself and the world.

As I've said before, the mind is a marvelous thing. It can create stories out of nothing, fabricate the most realistic thing, and convince you that something that only exists in your dreams is as real as the bed you sleep in. My mind, for example, is full of the most interesting things I've ever seen. My thoughts are more fantastic than any epic I've ever read with special effects better than anything CGI can possibly produce. Using my mind, I can get away from this dull, monotonous life and create my own world full of the more favorable things life has to offer. I can be anything or anyone anywhere in the world. I can create a better place where society can thrive without falling prey to one of the two extremes. I can do all these things in the safety of my own thoughts, and all I have to do is close my eyes and dream.