Since I was a young boy, my mother would tell me:
“You live with your head in the clouds.”
I would listen to her and smile, for I felt a deep delight in traveling through those magical, possible worlds—worlds that allowed me to fly, floating wingless and free, toward distant lands above spectacular oceans and mountains.
There, I would encounter all manner of beings, both real and unreal: dragons and Pegasus, as well as, wizards and sorceresses, and powerful kings—some magnanimous, others less so.
The latter would inevitably lose their battles at the hands of heroes who championed love and peace.
Then, I would find myself playing in the gardens, paths, and streets of beautiful, mysterious villages, only to leap into great cities of the past and future.
There, I would experience adventures and moments of pure pleasure—such as dances and sumptuous banquets—which I devoured with a voracious appetite; not merely for the food itself, but for the chance to meet people and learn their stories.
Driven by my boundless curiosity, I would pursue one mystery and exploration after another, until my mother would finally say:
“Hey! It’s time to land. Go take a bath and do your schoolwork for tomorrow.”
And so, with great effort, I would do just that and finish my tasks. But then, I would join my family for dinner, where my father always had an interesting travel story or anecdote to share—tales I would listen to with an intensity that, for some reason, surpassed that of anyone else in the family.
This continued until I came of age and understood it all: my father was just like me.
“He, too, lived with his head in the clouds.”
We were both dissatisfied with reality, so we invented an alternate one through our dreams—amplifying the intensity of heroic or dramatic historical events or simply conjuring up something entirely unreal for the sheer sake of escaping into a far more positive world.
It was a world brimming with a passion for honesty, mutual respect, love, and peace—yet one that also demanded the courage to fight for those values against the destructive impulses of the foolish egos of tyrants and sociopaths—beings who, sadly, abound all too frequently in our real world.
For many years, I lived like any responsible adult—studying, graduating from university, and working for years; falling in love and failing at it—until I met the woman who would become my wife and lover: a soul filled with boundless understanding who made me a better person, yet whom I caused great suffering due to that peculiar habit of mine—that tendency to live in a state of perpetual lack.
Dissatisfied with reality, I failed to see that a treasure stood right before me, day and night, until I finally learned to truly *see* her—to feel her absolute presence.
I embraced her, stepped out of my self-imposed vacuum of solitude, and became able to appreciate the light, the sky, and the sea in this real world.
Through her, I opened myself up to weaving my dreams into the fabric of my life; I began to write about them and became a filmmaker—making dreams and reality one and the same: tangible and possible.
I began filling the world—and offering it—my stories, brimming with love, empathy, solidarity, and joy for all, united as one with the universe.
Well then, my mother was right.
I still find myself living with «my head in the clouds»—but now, with my feet firmly planted on this magnanimous earth, an earth filled with treasures—just like my adored wife.
My wife, my life.
Jorge Troncone Osorio