“Whoosh!” The plane takes off in the endless sky, aiming for the clouds and beyond. The US city shrinks smaller and smaller, soon looking like a model in a museum. I close my eyes and gently tap my foot to the beat of the music in my ears. Helena Beat by Foster the People.

The song ends. I open my eyes. The plane is on the ground, and all I see is a sizable white building, the airport. I get off the plane and float through the building- people like colorful blurs around me, insignificant- grabbing my luggage on my way out. Coffee in hand. Europe. It’s a rainy day, and up goes my red umbrella. I hail a cab, and I’m on my way.

Nantes by Beirut. The rain is gone. The cab pulls into a small Italian town. Asolo. Cobblestone streets. Ivy growing up the buildings and blooming flowers everywhere. Open markets and the smell of rosemary and jasmine. I stop in my apartment that overlooks the village, put my things down. Blue dress, sandals, hair down, bangs in my face. Then I’m strolling through the markets, eating a fresh baguette. Macchiato in hand.

“So, how’s school going?” I flash back to reality. Sitting in front of the computer. Doing schoolwork. Music playing in the background. Blah. You see, my life is a little slow. Not much adventure. Not much traveling. We visit family, yes, but no new countries visited. No cultures experienced. No authentic food tried (as in Indian food in India). I wouldn't say my life is dull, more like it’s just not living up to my head. But I have been blessed with a pretty good head.

Some people have a place they like to go to think. Think about big decisions, problems, life. For example, some people will “go for a drive”, or sit on a bench in a park, or in a coffee shop, and that’s “their spot”. I don’t. I suppose you could say I have the “spot of a traveler”, or in my case a wannabe traveler. My spot is… my head. It doesn't matter where I am. I've always had a big imagination. Sometimes I go on big adventures. Or sometimes I just envision what I would like to be doing at the moment instead of what I’m actually doing. Call me a dreamer.

However, there is another factor involved in all this. Music. The beat, the words, the instrumentals. It takes me places. Sometimes it’s songs with deep meaning that ‘inspire’ me. However, I would say most of the time it is songs that have better music than words that work their magic on me. I zone out and that song is still playing in my head, making my daydreams like a movie with really good music, making them all the more dramatic and cliche.

I am a visual person.

Out the window, there is a towering pine tree. Machu Picchu by The Strokes. All of the sudden I’m at the base of the trunk, beginning to climb. Rough bark makes it easier to grip. Up, up, up the trunk of the spindly pine. Tall, too tall for its skinny trunk. And then, I am no longer on the ground, breaking my neck to see to the top. I am on top of the world, looking down, weightless. Suddenly, I'm in motion. I leap from branch to branch, shaking the tree tops all too much but never concerned they will break. And then I’m jumping from tree to tree, exploring. But I'm no longer in the woods- I'm in a rain forest. The Amazon Rain Forest with all it's curious glory and brilliance.

My head doesn't follow the rules of logic. Jumping from North Carolina to South America is perfectly acceptable.

Sometimes I envision myself playing or singing the music that I am listening to. I like to listen to instrumental music when I am working, and one minute I’m doing an assignment, the next I am in an attic with strings of lights all around, sitting at a piano or balancing a violin, playing like an incredible musician, just me and the music. The walls fall away and I am performing in front of an audience who came to see me. Or maybe walking down streets playing for the people around me.

The things in my head start from a real desire- a desire to travel, or to be a musician, or famous artist, or missionary, or adventurist. Things that I am not doing now. Of course, my mind isn't immune to those random thoughts that can never be explained, or the occasional thought of terrible possibilities. My mind is full of the what ifs and coulds and unless'. But most times I try not to think too much into those. For the most part my daydreams spring from a longing. A longing to be doing something… incredible. And for now, that’s just going to have to be enough.