One thing I never understood about life is the difference between reality and dreams. We so often think of dreams as abstract; impossible; fantastic; and maybe they are.
Maybe they are impossible. Maybe they are just figments of our imagination that can never come true. Maybe they are just as silly as a unicorn riding a rhino. Maybe.
Or maybe they are exactly what every upbeat, empowering and inspiring quotee seems to believe.
Eleanor Roosevelt said that the future belongs to people who believe in the beauty of their dreams. Walt Disney said that all our dreams can come true if we have the balls to chase them. And good old Oprah said that the best adventure we can take is to live the life of our dreams.
But aren’t we living out a dream every single day? Every time we wake up, every action we make, every seemingly small thing we accomplish, someone else in the world is dreaming of doing one day.
I dream of being a writer, and there are many writers in the world, but I am a journalist, and though writing an article is just a day’s work for me, there are others dreaming of doing that themselves. I know because I’ve met them.
You see, the things that we think are so simple might be really amazing to someone else out there, and the things that we see as impossible are nothing short of simple for another person in our strange, sour, sweet world.
Dreams are the building blocks of our lives. They are lived out every single day, and without them, none of us would survive.
And what inspires me–or rather, who–is this funny old man who could get as silly as silly gets and still somehow be the wisest of us all, and he said:
“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go.”
But sure, that doesn’t change that we all want something that we don’t have, and sometimes it’s simply mad to believe that it can happen, but me, I want to be a writer.
And because of that, I wake up every single day and just start writing. I live by my own reality and my own beliefs.
And what I believe is that even though what I write might be a complete jumble of useless run on sentences and fragments, it doesn’t matter. I will write myself into my grave, and damn it, it will be beautiful.
Because I wrote it.
And that rings true for any dream at all. No matter how many other people there are trying to do the same, nothing will be quite as amazing as what you do.
Because you did it.
That’s not just some silly little fantasy.