Day Dream

Written in a stream of consciousness. Unedited and Raw.

I want to live in a city where my apartment is too small to have a washer and dryer. I would be able to ride my bike with my clothes in a sack to the nearest laundromat. I could sit in a trance and watch the dirty laundry do its twirling ritual from dirty to clean again.

Or I could walk to the used bookstore next door—assuming this imaginary laundromat allows you to leave your clothes unattended.

This is my daydream. So yes.

I could start my new paperback journey, one that was once someone’s escape but is now mine for only a dollar. I could read with the scent of lavender dryer sheets wisping through my nostrils and the lo-fi hum of tumbling clothes in the background.

I would hope the book would be good enough for me to add more quarters to the dryer to double dry, just so I could keep reading—with the clothes staying the same size with every fiber thriving.

Finally, when finished, I could take a ride to the video store to rent the perfect scary movie for the night.

Of course, this wouldn’t be the perfect fantasy if it didn’t end with a fresh pizza pie. So fresh that by the time I arrive home, it still has the blissful cheesy pull.

I would try my best not to crash on the way home with my hot pie and clean laundry. I wouldn’t, because this is my daydream.