Dreams inspire us to achieve great things, to push through when the odds are stacked against us, to keep buggering on when every fiber of our being wants to give up. Or so I’m told.
I’m a dreamer. Always have been. And though I have achieved some of my dreams, the bigger they get the more distant from reality they seem. Because of this, the act of dreaming of something has now become unpalatable. This is largely due to the fact that no matter how much I want something, it doesn’t seem to come any closer to becoming a reality–highly frustrating.
And then there was light.
Dreams, I’ve come to realize, are a means to an end and not the end themselves. This may seem like a no-brainer to you non-dreamer types, but it was a hell of a revelation to me. To dream of a thing your whole life and never lift a finger to cause it to become a reality is truly a waste. It’s a waste of time and by extension it’s quite arguably a waste of a life. Why? Because it accomplishes absolutely nothing. After a lifetime of dreaming you’ll have nothing to show for it. The hard lesson is that achieving one’s dreams requires hard work. What’s worse, doing the work is in every way the opposite sensation of dreaming of the result.
That being said, I’ve tasted the fruit of said labour and it is good. Achieving ones dreams through hard work is infinitely more satisfying than sitting around hoping to fall ass-backwards into whatever it is you’re hoping for. It’s also a lot more likely to happen.
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