Fantasy

Fantasy

Fantasy is not escape.

It’s rehearsal.

It’s the place we go

to practice wanting

without apology.

Before the world told us

to be reasonable,

we lived here—

in rooms where dragons were metaphors

and metaphors were allowed to breathe fire.

Fantasy is where the rules soften.

Gravity negotiates.

Time forgets its job.

The self gets to ask what if

without being laughed out of the room.

It’s not childish.

It’s pre-injury.

Before disappointment learned our address,

we imagined freely—

lovers who arrived on time,

communities that meant it,

power that didn’t corrupt

because it never needed to dominate.

Fantasy is desire with its shoes off.

Truth unbuttoned.

A mirror that says,

“Here’s what you’d reach for

if you weren’t bracing for impact.”

This is why fantasy scares people.

Because it remembers what you wanted

before you learned how to survive instead.

Fantasy isn’t false.

It’s unfinished.

It’s the draft reality rejected

by fear,

by scarcity,

by those who benefit

from calling imagination naïve.

Every revolution

was once dismissed

as fantasy.

Every love story worth keeping

started as a ridiculous idea.

Fantasy is not the opposite of reality.

It’s reality

before it was negotiated down.

And when you return from it—

not empty,

not delusional,

but lit—

you bring back contraband:

Hope.

Vision.

The audacity to try again.

Fantasy doesn’t ask you to stay forever.

It asks you to remember

what you’re capable of building

when you stop confusing realism

with resignation.

Fantasy (Manifesto)

Fantasy is not escape.

It is blueprint.

It is the place where we admit

what we want

before we edit it

to fit inside other people’s expectations.

Fantasy is where power is explored

without permission,

where love is imagined

without bargaining,

where justice is not constrained

by what has already failed.

Every system that exists

was once accused

of being unrealistic.

Fantasy is not irresponsibility—

it is responsibility

to the future.

To imagine better

is to refuse collapse

as the only option.

Fantasy is not the opposite of reality.

It is reality

before fear gets its hands on it.

Why Fantasy Is Labeled Unreal

Fantasy is called “unreal”

because it threatens the people

who rely on things staying broken.

It’s easier to mock imagination

than to explain why cruelty

has been normalized.

Fantasy gets dismissed as childish

because children

haven’t yet agreed

to lower their standards.

Those who profit from scarcity

must convince you

that abundance is a fairytale.

Those who rule by fear

must teach you

that hope is dangerous.

Calling fantasy “unreal”

is a control tactic.

Because once you imagine better,

you start noticing

what was never acceptable to begin with.

Threshold Vow

I vow to honor what I imagine

before I interrogate it.

I vow to treat fantasy

as sacred rehearsal,

not foolish escape.

I vow to notice who benefits

when I am told

to be “more realistic.”

I vow to let imagination

inform my actions

instead of silencing it

to survive.

I vow to carry one impossible idea

back with me—

and build from there.

— Flower InBloom 🌿