by Iveta Silova

She was really good at daydreaming. She could daydream anywhere, anytime. Standing in her room by the window, staring outside. The colors blurring, the sounds fading away, the window getting foggy from her breathing. She could daydream sitting at the desk at school, listening to the teacher talking... teacher’s voice slowing drifting away. She could daydream riding a train, watching the trees go by, watching train stations passing by... one, then another, then another. She could daydream singing in a choir, her voice merging with the voices of others, no longer able to tell them apart. Daydreaming felt like floating in outer space. Weightless. Peaceful. Quiet. No thoughts rushing through her head, no noise. Simply tuning out and slipping away easily and effortlessly.    

“Iveta! What is the answer? Are you listening?” the teacher interrupts the girl’s day-dreaming suddenly and loudly. “Why aren’t you paying attention?” The teacher seems angry and frustrated. She takes the girl’s gradebook and writes a note to her parents, “Daydreaming in class. Not paying attention. Needs to change.”