Walking on a Dream

Often I find myself thinking: sometimes about life, sometimes about fantasy, sometimes about my future. But lately, the one thought that I can't seem to get off of my mind is the concept of location. Late at night, once a shadow of darkness has painted my room black and the only sounds that seem to be circulating throughout my secluded sanctuary are noises of my mind gently whispering to me, I rest my head full of blonde tresses onto my pillow and evaluate. Frequently, I have been proposing the question, "Meghan, if you could be anywhere in the world, where would you be?" upon myself. Then, as I lay there, staring at the ceiling imagining that I have X-ray vision and can miraculously see right through the roof to catch a glimpse of the constellations, my mind wanders off into some fictional world, almost like an unwritten story book loaded with pictures of palaces, royalty, the world, and divine clothing creations that the supreme fashion god (whoever that may be) has created. And the only words in this book, are adjectives and verbs-no sentence structure, no nouns, no punctuation, just free, unattached words. Once my mind has accessed this parallel brain of mine, I contemplate the question of "Where would I be?"
New York? I ask myself. The city is thriving with interesting people, favorable fashions, beautiful culture, and fascinating history. But no, New York just doesn't cut it.
Then I ask, Paris? It is the fashion capital of the world and the polar opposite of Florida. But still, I always seem to shoot down that location as well.
Japan? It is drenched in cultures that I have never encountered, ranks quite high in uniqueness, and the hardcore street fashion is to die for. Yet, my mind doesn't seem to agree with that idea either.
Suddenly, by some force of nature, I have this sudden realization that if I could be anywhere at all, the only place that I could dream of calling my home would be one of the most divine places to ever exist; in Alexander McQueen's mind (a girl can dream can't she?) Some people say, "I would love to be in *insert name here*'s mind for ten minutes." But no, I would love to eternally live in this man's mind. To be in the middle of the darkness, fantasy, imagination, and emotions his brain conjurers, well it would be indescribable, so therefore I am not going to even say any adjectives because I know that they do not have the ability to measure up to him, and will essentially seem childlike and low-brow, which is something that I do not want.
But honestly, could you envision nuzzling up in that precious little brain of his and calling that HOME? It would be very unproductive I imagine. I know all I would do is just cuddle up in a pile of his bumsters and impeccably tailored dresses from the McQueen archives while munching on popcorn, basking in the glory of each design idea that would pour into his brain. I also believe it would get rather cluttered in there, but I would gladly roll into a little ball, almost like some tiny creature and just plant myself into the smallest nook and cranny I could find, because let's face it, his ideas are much much more important than I am.
Too bad my imagination is far too big for reality. Maybe Disney could build a new theme park; McQueen's Mind? I would be an avid visitor, or I suppose I could just live there! Ya know, hide in the trash cans while security does their nightly checks? Dear Walt, take it into consideration.
We still miss you McQueen<3