In Grade 8, one of our earliest projects in the year was making a timeline of what we thought our life would be. I remember, very clearly, thinking I would have a book published by now. I think I was also on track to have this book made into a movie in the next few years. Obviously, life has turned out differently.
This idea of what my life would look like has been dormant. The dreams of being a published author languish somewhere in The Land of This Isn’t Realistic.
Despite writing, “Write the book” on my goal list this year, I’m still scared. Even having a specific vision in mind for the book, I can’t bring myself to type a word. All this time, my eyes have been locked into non-fiction writing.
But this other, quiet dream keeps popping up. It’s a resurrection of sorts. I find myself Googling whether the title is taken yet. Thinking about how to change the characters so it’s a little less obvious who I’m writing about.
Maybe this is the year where I pay attention in the ways I did as a grade 7 fiction writer.
Still, lingering doubts. I keep catching myself thinking, “No, Hannah. You were a naive Grade 7 kid. This is just no longer a feasible idea.”
While true, I also dreamed without fear of the future or without fear that my ideas were silly. I really miss that feeling - the way I felt as I boldly made predictions with my Crayola markers and my half-lowercase, half-uppercase scrawl for what the future would hold. If we’re looking at the way I approach the future now, it is timidly. With a pencil.
Perhaps we can meet in the middle. Let’s try erasable pen.
So perhaps this isn’t a specific book dream I’m resurrecting, but maybe it’s resurrecting a belief in dreaming - the dreaming that puts the doubting voice of reality on pause for just a moment or two.
What’s a dream you feel resurrecting in you?