I’ve battled insomnia for most of my life. I fall asleep easily, it’s the staying asleep part I struggle with. I don’t like taking anything for it, because then I don’t dream. It’s a very important part of my creative life, dreaming. The other night, I was lying in bed, listening to the quiet slumber in my house, staring at the ceiling. In the dark, the benign textures take on ominous shapes, and I wonder if I can solve the world’s problems, lying in my bed.
I focus so much on the dream, not so much on the happily ever after. Some of dreams terrify me. It’s like, it’s closing time, the house lights come up and you’re back to reality. Only now, your reality includes this thing that you wanted so much. It’s here, and it’s your responsibility to tend to it, nurture it and make it grow. Dreams are easy. Reality is freaking hard.
I’ve worked hard on my goals (dreams with a deadline!) over the years. There’s a lot of sweat, blood and pain wrapped up in them. I’ve reached into the depths of my soul for the fortitude to achieve even partial victories. Other times, I’m caught up in a flow like City Creek during spring runoff. Even more regularly, I’m stuck in aposiopesis.
What if, reality matched fantasy? What if my dreams did come true…then what? Some are pretty audacious. I’ve got dreams and schemes for days, weeks, months-a whole lifetime. I’m one of those people that when something good happens, I’m looking around for the Punk’d cameras. I’m afraid that they called out the wrong name and I’m not the winner. I don’t want to get woken up from one of those dreams only to find out that’s all it was. Man, that would be such a bummer.