Fateful childhood dream room.

I took motivation and inspiration from my memories of my childhood bedroom. A place for dreaming.

I took motivation and inspiration from my memories of my childhood bedroom. A place for dreaming.

As I have said in previous posts, I am following ‘The artists way’. It is a twelve week program to unblock the artist within you. Each week you are expected to preform ‘tasks’. This week I did a task that for whatever reason felt compelled to share.  Over the next 12 weeks, don’t be surprised if this comes up more!

Task: Describe your childhood bedroom. 

A small room in a big yellow house. It was my small room. I didn’t have to share it, and in a family of five that was an achievement on its own.  It was completely mine.  In  house full of chaos, I tried to create a space of sanctuary.

 I remember the walls were pained with sponges. A new techniques my mom though would be ‘neat’. The bottom half of the wall was yellow, blue and pink pastel. The top half was white. Separating the colors was a floral paper border. It really was as ‘neat’ as she though it would be, but I would never tell her that. 

The floor was hardwood. It was put down by my dad. He was no expert but he tried. The floor did remind me of him. I personified that floor to his life. It had such potential for beauty but the boards shifted and lifted away from each other, creating cracks that needed to be covered up by rugs.  Eventually when my parents split up, I needed to leave that room, it reminded me too much of what could have been. 

The room had a closet, a little closet. It was an old house and the closets were unique like mini rooms. This closet was like a tiny space to disappear into and imagine a new story.

My bed was a white metal daybed. I remember picking that bed out at the antique market, I remember the feeling of elegance I got when I saw the bed. It reminded me of the girls in my books. Girls from the past with luxurious and lavish lifestyles. I knew that the bed needed to be in my room and I was overjoyed and elated when my mom agreed, I loved that bed. I tried to fill it with pillows and cover in with girly bedspreads. It was my cozy and dignified place to escape. I spent many of hours reading book after book in that bed, imagining how my life would shape up.

A lastly, I remember the desk in my room. A long wood desk directly across from the bed. There was ample space for me to do my homework and activities on. The desk was well suited for its purpose. But more then practicalities, the desk provided me with a sense of wonder and awe. The desk was a catalyst for my childhood soul to dream and wonder about my creative life and how it would flourish. The desk gave me the ability to dream big. It opened my eyes and heart to the possibility of greatness. 

I am reminded of how that room made me feel and how sad to me it is that all that disappeared. I lost those dreams over the years, moved rooms and changed direction. I now know I am being pulled back to that space of childhood wonder. I am being pulled back to looking at my life through the eyes that are pure and innocent. I am trying to imagine my dreams with unadulterated joy. 

>We plan our lives according to a dream that came to us in our childhood, and we find that life alters our plans. And yet, at the end, from a rare height, we also see that our dream was our fate. It’s just that providence had other ideas as to how we would get there. Destiny plans a different route, or turns the dream around, as if it were a riddle, and fulfills the dream in ways we couldn’t have expected. -Ben Okri

much love,



One thought on “Fateful childhood dream room.

  1. Pingback: Fateful childhood dream room. | Mama Confessionals

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