I’m a lifelong daydreamer – why is it so taboo to admit it?

Researchers at Queen’s University Belfast recently explored the link between daydreaming and learning in children, monitoring their brain activity while learning to read. The team discovered that it was impossible to prevent children from daydreaming, arguing that it’s detrimental to their learning in the classroom. As a lifelong daydreamer, I am left wondering: why would you want to stop it in the first place?

School reports deemed that I was “a friendly, quiet member of the class, prone to daydreaming”. I spent hours of my school day zoning out. I was probably wondering what my mum was going to make for tea that night or daydreaming about the next episode of Round the Twist.

In contrast to my childhood, kids of today live in digitally demanding worlds, where they regularly stare into an abyss of devices. That is why it is even more important to let children daydream about the glorious possibilities of life and follow the threads of their own thoughts. Digital devices can feed the daydreaming too. My son often creates videos of himself for fun, playing with his favourite toys, with full-blown narrative and voices added in for dramatic effect.

It is important for children to be allowed to pursue their thoughts, especially while learning. Figuring out the big questions – like who you are and what you would like to explore as an individual in this world – is just as important as maths and science. Daydreaming is fundamentally thinking for oneself in real life, and in an abundance of potential imaginary scenarios.

There is no shortage of research that praises the benefits of daydreaming – a New Zealand study even found that having imaginary friends improved children’s language skills. As a child, curled up with a book was my safe space. I remember daydreaming about the plot of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe so much so that I practically mourned the death of Aslan. The idea that children could adventure into Narnia (through a wardrobe!) was a revelation for 10-year-old me. I can see clearly now that I was learning about bravery, self-belief and the beauty and tragedy of life and death.

Within an educational context, daydreaming is also a form of nonconformity. Children are rewarded for behaving in positive ways throughout their school life. Obedience and unwavering attention are greeted with gold stars and house points. Children are human beings, not SAT-level chasing robots with differences of their own.

While I can understand why educators want children to listen and actively learn, it’s worth considering that there is currently a rising waiting list for neurodevelopmental assessment on the NHS. Some children will be unable to engage with traditional classroom teaching styles as well as others. Children with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) for example, require different strategies to engage with their teaching material.

On the face of it, it seems as if these children are being deliberately noncompliant in lessons. But in reality, they have an invisible disability and are not just being naughty. Neurodiverse children are extremely creative and observant – there are so many intelligent and artistic adults out there who did not conform to the stuffy expectations of a school setting. Ultimately, children are fundamentally creative beings with their own autonomy. It was Picasso who said that “every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.” I couldn’t agree more.

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To my teacher’s dismay, daydreaming is not something that I have ever grown out of. I am grateful for those precious internal moments during testing times and endless queues. I remember daydreaming when my children were newborns, the days and night merging deliriously when sleep was scarce. It has fed my creative process and stream of consciousness – supplying a source of ideas for my writing. In challenging moments daydreams became a hope, an escape to a carefree world. They are a process of release and a coping mechanism in a demanding world where you are rarely allowed just to be present.

I am not the only creative person to relish in daydreaming as an adult. Daydreaming is an essential part of life for filmmaker David Lynch, and JK Rowling practically daydreamed the whole plot of Harry Potter during a long train journey. Leslie Jamison explored daydreaming in all its forms in her wonderful literary essay Dreams in Broad Daylight: Ten Conversations, where she reveals her most intimate daydreams and asks those around her in her life to reveal theirs.

Leslie’s mother’s daydreams about death really stuck with me. Her escape into daydreaming was “a way to think about the end of her life as something that would not be lonely or institutional”. She often daydreams about sharing a home with her aunt, her younger sister and best friend and finds comfort in the idea of it even if it isn’t going to happen. Older people need to daydream too as a way of making sense of their place in the world before and after they leave this earth.

Daydreams are not just connected to what could be, they are connected to the pain of what could have been and the exquisiteness of what could be. They all blur together in the daydreamer’s mind while life in all its beautiful fragility continues. It shouldn’t be taboo to admit that you are a daydreamer as we all do it. It is a fundamental part of being human that should be celebrated by society, especially inside our classrooms. All children deserve the gift of time and space to daydream. Some of us need it more than others.