It was a strange kind of cool October morning. As Big Ben chimed 6am so proudly across the Thames, you could almost see the fog part as the sound waves collided across the hazy morning malaise. I had been daydreaming, but the sounds of the chime brought me back to focus.
Daydreaming is an interesting thing, isn’t it? A doctor would tell you that daydreaming is stimulus independent thought, or a Buddhist might say it is thought about something other than events that originate from the present moment, away from mindfulness.
In common speech, fantasies and daydream, the stuff of mind wandering. It occurred to me now that daydreaming was perhaps a glimpse into something else entirely. The corporeal mind only able to process so much of it. Completely clear to me in a sudden rush of insight.
I held grandpa’s hand and looked up at him smiling as we walked through the square. He’d been gone for ten years now – and now so was I.