I was sitting here thinking, what are my dreams for this week. To do well at the conference and to catch an agent’s interest. To meet another writer or five and click so we can have conversations about writing. Of course, this line of thought made me think back to my dreams as a 25-year-old. As a 20-year-old. All the way back to a seven-year-old. I can remember having all these dreams about the future.
Now sitting here, I can tell you most of them didn’t come true. I don’t live in a Newport Mansion with servants (age 8 dream) nor do I live in China (age 20 dream). Does that mean I gave up on my dreams? Or they gave up on me? I don’t think so. I think I changed and my dreams changed accordingly. I grew up and some dreams were outgrown.
But other dreams I saw through and made a reality. Which leaves me wondering why these and not those? Were they harder to achieve? Were they just plain unrealistic (at five I dreamed of being green)? Not sure. But I do know the dreams I realized defined me for a long time. And the dreams that fell by the wayside dropped off my radar pretty fast. So I have to think there was a reason for it. Or I’m really good at letting go of what I can’t have.
How have your dreams changed over the years? Which mean more to you–the ones achieved or the ones left behind?