Big news, team: we’re not making resolutions this New Year. We’re not telling ourselves to change our body shape or stamp out bad habits. We’re not asking each other if we’re doing Dry January or nagging people about how they live their lives. We’re not making resolutions this New Year, we’re embracing dreams.
I have plenty of dreams about what might happen when things are finally safe from the plague. I’m optimistic about vaccines, and I hope I’ll have mine by the summer. I hope that long before then, the people who are most vulnerable can get their vaccine and breathe a big sigh of safety and relief. And in the meantime I will wash my hands, wear a mask, and fucking dream.
There’s nothing like being home alone for Christmas to really hone your introspection and get you pondering the future. And whenever I’m alone I let myself dawdle in dreams. Not goals or tasks or items to tick off a ‘to-do’ list: dreams.
Firstly, I dream of getting out of this place. This house, which I used to love, is now too full of ghosts to be habitable. My ex-partner is very much alive, and lives only a short cycle away, yet for some reason his ghost haunts every single room of this place. I’m looking forward to leaving it here and finding somewhere of my own to fill with newer, happier spirits.
Secondly, I’m getting a fucking tattoo. I expressed this desire to a good friend recently, whose immediate response was ‘about fucking TIME, it’s incredibly off-brand that you don’t have a single tattoo yet.’ I’ve been waiting to find the perfect quote to have inked onto my skin forever, and worried that if I get what I want (song lyrics written by a dude), the guy involved might at some point turn out to have done some sexual assault and then I’ll have to peel off my skin. These are the things I worry about, in the year 20 fucking 20.
Third: I’m going to get banged by two dudes at once. It’s been a long time since I had this, and I want it. Come on 2021, stick me with vaccine then fill me up with dick.
I’m not making resolutions this year, but if we’re talking dreams I want to get DPd with my fuck machine.
Then there are the festivals I’ll go to when we’re allowed to do festivals again. I’ve learned how to hula hoop and I’m looking forward to being one of those people who shows off for no reason at a festival, mesmerising tripping passers-by and hoping some random scruffy hot guy will come back to my tent to spunk all over my stomach.
There are friends I have not hugged in so so fucking long, who I want to bounce eagerly up to and envelop in excitable cuddles. There are people who have done incredible favours for me over the last year, who I cannot wait to repay when the right time comes. There are men living in my phone who I want to meet, or see again, who are separated by little more than a single train ride and caution about the plague, so right now they might as well live on fucking Mars – I hope in 2021 Mars gets closer. There’s this one guy I’m very keen to spend a lot more time with: we have literally never been to the pub together, and I’d love to do some Before Times stuff together, like buy him a fucking pint.
There are pubs with shuttered doors that will one day open, and I haven’t had a pint of tap cider since February. I am going to guzzle that shit like I’m dying of thirst.
Then, probably, there’s something to do with photos and my body. I’ve wanted to do a photoshoot with my good pal Molly Moore for ages, but the plague keeps thwarting our attempts to get together. I am excited for the day when we can see each other again, and power each other up with gossip and laughter and fun. And then I’ll show you some pictures of my tits or something.
I’m going to see my family – all my family – together in the same place at once. And I’m going to buy them the Christmas presents that I couldn’t get them this year, and watch their confused faces as they open random ‘happy 15th of June’ gifts.
There are loads more things I could add to this list, and I’m sure I will as the plodding horror of winter lockdown gets steadily worse before it gets better.
The key thing, though, is that some of the things on this list won’t get done, and that’s OK. Because I’m not making resolutions this year, I’m embracing dreams. And the best thing about dreams is they aren’t compulsory. They aren’t items to tick off a ‘to-do’ list, or beat yourself up for never getting round to crossing off. Dreams aren’t tasks to work at when you’re sitting at your desk, but things to steep in like a warm bath, which bring you cosy joy about all the possible futures and help you carve a path towards a future that’s genuinely fun.
I’m not making resolutions this year, but these are some of my dreams.