I've always been a major daydreamer. Seriously. I'm embarrassed to admit that I regularly -- though not intentionally -- miss entire sections of conversations. Then I'm faced with the ever-so-awkward-pretend-like-I-know-what-you-were-talking-about-so-now-I'm-using-general-phrases-like "wow," "really?," and "how cool!." The whole time I'm hoping the lucid half of the conversation will somehow reveal a glimpse of what they just said. And I'm praying that it wasn't something that would have rendered my "how cool!" phrase ridiculous. You know, like her recent cauliflower ear diagnosis or her husband's affair with the Schwan's delivery guy.
Practicing presence is something on which I'm always working, but somehow, my wandering thoughts enjoy highjacking and racing away with the moment at hand. What am I thinking about when aforementioned highjacking occurs? Anything and everything. Sometimes I make mental lists or plan a dinner menu. Other times I wonder what the person I'm talking to was like in high school -- I try to picture what they looked like and imagine them at pep rallies or enjoying their first kiss after the Snow Ball. Many times I concoct outlandish scenes -- much like JD does on the show, Scrubs. I imagine everything from saving the show as the unsung-hero-understudy in a Broadway play to picturing my cats working at Burger King (they would look outstandingly cute in polyester pants).
Although I know this little daydreaming habit of mine sometimes gets in the way of enjoying the present moment, I sort of savor the little bits of escape into my own flights of fantastical fancy. And I no longer judge my cats, who sometimes sit and stare at a blank wall a la the guy at the end of The Blair Witch Project. For all I know, they could be thinking about serving up Whoppers and chocolate shakes.