Dreaming. It’s one of my favorite things to do. Sometimes it’s just daydreaming. A fleeting thought, a small sliver of the prospect of possibility, that I let go of as soon as I grab hold of it because it doesn’t keep my attention.
And then there are the big dreams. The ones that are nestled deep inside your heart. The dreams that are lifelong and patient. The dreams that you pour your blood, sweat, tears, and soul into because they’re ingrained; a part of you that you can’t ignore. Because if you did ignore them you’d feel cheated, and less … you.
My big dreams all of my adult life (aside from the obvious happiness, inner peace, and love) have always been to write a book and travel the world.
Ambitious (aren’t the best ones always?), but not impossible dreams.
Writing my first book took four years. Four years of trial and error, self-discovery, and conquering the terrifyingly real fear of putting myself out there for the world to see. And being judged for it. I always say it’s the equivalent of giving a speech butt naked in front of a crowded room. Emotionally naked. Vulnerable. And there’s nothing more satisfying than accomplishing, overcoming, triumphing, and holding my own creation … a book … my book … in my hands.
Tangible fruition of a dream.
Little did I know big dream one (writing a book, or three) would spontaneously birth big dream two (traveling the world).
Writing books led to attending and participating in book signing events. When I self-published my first book I had no idea book signing events even existed. No idea that hundreds of avid readers travel many a mile to gather in camaraderie all based on a pure, genuine love of books. I felt like I’d been missing out. I’d always loved my favorite authors from afar. Through a connection with their thoughts assembled like a gift, on paper, in a book, for readers like me. But, little did I know, out in the real world, readers and writers were connecting on a visceral level, in person, face to face. So when I got invited to my first signing I thought it was too good to be true. Because not only would I get to meet some of my lovely readers who had shown my books unimaginable love online and thank them and hug them, but I’d also get to meet my favorite authors, my idols, and thank them and hug them. Yet another dream fulfilled I didn’t even know was possible.
And at the heart of this beautiful extension of my writing was travel. I’ve visited several states over the past six months, as well as my first trip abroad. England. Beautiful, polite, historical England. And in the next year I’ll visit Australia, the UK, and several more states. Each place I visit I approach with the wide, curious eyes of a child. Taking in the nuances of not only the geography, people, and culture, but also the spirit of the city. Bearing witness to what makes each destination different, yet the same. Each trip reinforces how lucky I am. The people I meet and the experiences I have are truly the things that dreams are made of.
And I know one thing for sure, I’ll never stop dreaming. Because dreams are infinite, but also circular. One leads to the next … leads to the next … leads to the next …
And go see the world.