The crystalline waters of the Mediterranean coast capture the utmost perfection as its waves lull around lazily. The grayscale buildings might have looked dull if they were surrounded by thick forest, but the refreshing blue waters exemplified their existence into something unearthly. The few colored buildings speckled here and there, though, bring a relaxing thought of controlled chaos to the mind. The pink and purple flowers that adorn the vines creeping up the sweet little flats refresh the head and give off an aura of loveliness that can only be found in Italy during springtime. The burden of worries silently leaves your brain as the wind ruffles through your hair, adding only a feeling of calm and nothing more. It’s the sort of wind that takes away the humidity from the air and replaces it with a feeling of freedom. The only unpleasant part about this vibrant portrait is that when you open your eyes it’s gone.When you open your eyes you are instead in a place you don’t want to be in and feeling a feeling you don’t want to be feeling. You might be in a place with bare walls that need a fresh layer of paint; in a place with no furnishings but the simple green chair you’re sitting on; in a place where someone has to look past the dire blandness to see the slight spark of creativity that might have inspired that simple structure of the room. You might be feeling some feelings that overwhelm your head, causing you to get dizzy and making you sit in that simple green chair surrounded by those bland walls. But then you know that you can close your eyes and then experience the sweet honey of the sun rays pouring over that Italian coast. You know that you can write in that little journal of yours covered in those beautiful lavender flowers you love, with crisp yellow pages that have sporadic black dots over it. You know that in this insipid room you can make delightful little stories with your favorite blue pen. You know that this banal room of yours is much more than what others might think from just sight. Classic stories of princesses stuck in towers adorn the room with vines and old stone, while stories of nasty goblins casting a shadow of fear on a group of villagers cause the room to get all gloomy at moments. Your favorite stories, though, are the ones of distant lands that only come in your dreams, ones that bring up a tingling sensation in your heart and send a rush of awe to your brain. Ones like the one you were daydreaming of before are always hard to describe on paper, so instead you close your eyes and dream about them. You dream about the wondrous lands beyond your fickle room, about the secrets that lie afar. So, setting your dear lavender covered journal and blue pen aside, you close your eyes to dream Italian dreams once again.