Are dreams forgotten realities, or the other way around?

I dreamt of owning a website and starting a blog when I started writing in 2010. But it never happened. The reasons for that are same reasons of my absence in social networking and general socializing. A writer a creator presents a piece of their heart to the world every time they finish a page of essay or story. The world might chew that piece and immediately spit it out, the dreaded fear of any creator. In other creative mediums, such as music, art, theatre, the response is less impinging than in writing. The whole process of putting up words on paper follows decisions, those which question the principles and ideals of the person writing the piece, and the person reading it. When a reader spits it out, the writer’s mind starts questioning those decisions, every one of them. The very reason for one line to be there, is the preceding one. The chain lengthens in size, and soon, the writer starts to doubt himself.

I admit that doubting is fine. It changes and reshapes the mind faster than motivation or inspiration. The problem I faced in the infancy of my twenties, was maturity in dealing with doubts. The long variations of it scared me. I thought about the outcome of doubts affecting my growth as a writer. If I couldn’t understand the problem, how can I understand the solution I found to the problem? This was not writer’s block, as I wrote my heart out in my single blog comments across the internet. This was fear. Fear to make a choice: be a writer now, and become better in the future or be an observer of the craft and be the better writer tomorrow.

From experience, this fear is going to sit inside my head and cry out whenever I put up anything for the world. It is not going to go away. It took me four years and more to accept that writing is an evolving craft, and not one with a skill ceiling. But, reading and researching before diving-in is a good thing. You will have a more objective view about the craft after every story you read or write. This is same for any activity,  and a little simpler.

Now my dreams are changing by my circumstances the reality. There is so much chaos and drama in my life, that I am more afraid about myself  than the craft. How? I do not know. Time will reveal the past in the future, like the colours of sunset unraveling itself in a photograph. Were there so many colours when I clicked the image? The post-processing of life is an intense activity involving yesterday, today, and now.

In closing, I’ll part with this thought –

Dreams and realities are each other’s visions. If you close one, you see less with the other. Wink.

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