Sanctuary

On daydreams and feeling seen, plus a poem

When I was in eighth grade, my science teacher signed my yearbook: “To Still Waters Run Deep.”

She offered an explanation for the inscription, but I already knew what it meant.

I hadn't even spoken all that much in her class that year, and we didn't spend much time interacting directly, but she saw something beneath my quiet, surface-level masking, and she took the time to let me know it.

I'm not sure she knew how much her class acted as a sanctuary for me, and I wish that I had been able to tell her.

"Sanctuary is a word which here means a small safe place in a troubling world."

- A Series of Unfortunate Events, 2004*

(*Side note: did anyone else watch this movie obsessively for weeks after they discovered it? Just me? I'm planning to add the books to my reading queue for next year.)

A still from the 2004 adaptation of A Series of Unfortunate Events.

I've always been a daydreamer; head in the clouds, mind drifting to the farthest reaches of possibility.

This is partly because I just really love to be lost in thought, and partly because I didn't have much else to do with myself as an undiagnosed autistic kid who was high masking and constantly both surrounded by people and overwhelmed, and also often feeling really left out and lonely.

But I didn't feel that way as much in her class.

Mrs. Klim was an older woman who - if I recall correctly - experienced regular headaches. She brought an enormous fast food soda cup with her every day and kept it in an open desk drawer (probably for the caffeine). She kept the lights off whenever possible, and I remember her classroom always being very calm and quiet.

When we took tests, she sat in the back of the room at her desk, and she graded them as they were brought to her. I sat near the back, often handing mine in first, and then I would use the free time we had for the rest of the period for reading, writing, drawing, or daydreaming.¹

Most of the time, the daydreaming inadvertently happened in tandem with one of those other activities. It was a reprieve that my sensitive brain and body needed more than I could have understood at the time.

I daydreamed my way through many classes throughout my school years, but there were few that offered the same level of safety for me to relax, and even fewer teachers who seemed to really understand and see beyond my surface-level quiet, and let me know they found depth and value there.

When you're used to floating on the fringe, drifting into a daydream is sometimes a needed escape.

It's been years since I was in school, and I've since become much more comfortable with myself, but as a neurodivergent stay-at-home parent, I still often find it to be a necessary sanctuary.

Now, I just try to be a bit more intentional about retreating there.²

It's been a while since I included a poem here, so I'll leave you with this one, which I wrote during last year's Poem a Day in May³ and feels relevant:

Don't look for me in the shallows.

You will find me deep 

in conversation

in my feelings

in thought

in process

in love

with

life. 

Were you a daydreamer? Are you still? I'd love for you to share about it in the comments (or you can always reply to the email/DM me in the app). And as always, feel free to share if this resonated with you!

1. This isn't meant to be a brag, it's just what happened. There were classes I struggled in over the years - especially as I started getting burnt out near graduation - but hers wasn't one of them.

2. I was most certainly engaging in some maladaptive daydreaming during my school years.

3. I'm sure most of you who will be reading this are already familiar with

Kaitlin Curtice

's Poem a Day in May, which happens right here on Substack, but there's still time to join this year's community. It's indescribably lovely.