Letting dreams run their course
So I bought a new journal yesterday — I cal it my Dream Journal. It’s black with a pink ribbon. Matches my Liz Claiborne bag that’s black with pink lining and also my purse (the latter of which, admittedly, is not a Liz or a Nine West like most of the rest of my stuff but, alas, from K-mart). I’ve been on a black-and-pink kick for a year before it became all the rage in the boutiques, and I’ll probably cling to it for a long time to come. Or, until black and cobalt blue becomes hot. 🙂
In any event, I’d spoken some time ago about moving the blog elsewhere. And that day will come, I’m sure, because now that my brand-new license plates mention that I am a blogger, well, I am afraid I will get even more visitors who might not be so appreciative of my humor. But that’s where the Dream Journal comes in — I don’t have to keep all the madness to myself any more!
Now, to figure out when I will have time to write in it. 😉
I did write in it last night, though. And I’m kind of doing it as convolutedly as I do the blog some days — it’s another place where I can debate concepts, although I don’t have the benefit of sane readers being able to comment on it. 🙂 But I did want to share an excerpt from it. Maybe you can benefit:
“I never finish a fantasy. And, for a number of years, I didn’t have many fantasies — it’s as if the sides of my brain declared war on each other. The creative side would stir, and the rational side would strike. But, it’s like Shan and I say about ideas — keeping them locked inside makes them go stale. We should always be generating — and giving away — our ideas (particularly to those who are as appreciative of initiative as we are). Same goes with dreams, I guess. (Our original thought process dies) with us, and we shouldn’t allow (the dreams we did have) to die within us. And, I don’t want to leave this world without having changed it. …
“Perhaps if I let my dreams run their course, I’d see them come to fruition. Only in my (subconscious meanderings) can I learn how to love (and live), so when the day comes, I will be ready (when it happens). And until (that) day can come … I can dream about it.
And, so I will. …”
(Editor’s note: Detail stripped out or phrases crafted way better now that I am typing.)
In any event, I’m so tired of Gloom and Doom. I’m an only child, and those are not my chosen playmates. They came a-knockin’ and I let them in, but it’s time to toss those freeloading fucknuts out onto the street where they belong.
I’m going to try to see what life can be like when I expect the best. I’ve always lived by the creed of expecting the worst and hoping for the best, in the event I would be prepared. But, guess what? I’ve faced my worst (to date), and I wasn’t ready for it. In fact, I immersed myself in a “Well, doesn’t this figure?” type of thinking. Screw that. I’d rather live out loud (to steal a phrase from Anna Quindlen) and not die inside, as I seem to have briefly permitted myself to do.
And my dream book? I expect it to be my roadmap, because I don’t want to be lost anymore. And like the headlines read last week after the Nationals won the very first game they played, I, too, am launching my undefeated season … starting right now.
Dream along with me, if you dare. … 😉
On iTunes: Reba McEntire, “Talking in Your Sleep”