Letting dreams run their course
So I bought a new journal yesterday — I cal it my Dream Journal. It’s black with a pink ribbon. Matches my Liz Claiborne bag that’s black with pink lining and also my purse (the latter of which, admittedly, is not a Liz or a Nine West like most of the rest of my stuff but, alas, from K-mart). I’ve been on a black-and-pink kick for a year before it became all the rage in the boutiques, and I’ll probably cling to it for a long time to come. Or, until black and cobalt blue becomes hot. 
In any event, I’d spoken some time ago about moving the blog elsewhere. And that day will come, I’m sure, because now that my brand-new license plates mention that I am a blogger, well, I am afraid I will get even more visitors who might not be so appreciative of my humor. But that’s where the Dream Journal comes in — I don’t have to keep all the madness to myself any more!
Now, to figure out when I will have time to write in it. 
I did write in it last night, though. And I’m kind of doing it as convolutedly as I do the blog some days — it’s another place where I can debate concepts, although I don’t have the benefit of sane readers being able to comment on it. But I did want to share an excerpt from it. Maybe you can benefit:
“I never finish a fantasy. And, for a number of years, I didn’t have many fantasies — it’s as if the sides of my brain declared war on each other. The creative side would stir, and the rational side would strike. But, it’s like Shan and I say about ideas — keeping them locked inside makes them go stale. We should always be generating — and giving away — our ideas (particularly to those who are as appreciative of initiative as we are). Same goes with dreams, I guess. (Our original thought process dies) with us, and we shouldn’t allow (the dreams we did have) to die within us. And, I don’t want to leave this world without having changed it. …
“Perhaps if I let my dreams run their course, I’d see them come to fruition. Only in my (subconscious meanderings) can I learn how to love (and live), so when the day comes, I will be ready (when it happens). And until (that) day can come … I can dream about it.
And, so I will. …”
(Editor’s note: Detail stripped out or phrases crafted way better now that I am typing.)
In any event, I’m so tired of Gloom and Doom. I’m an only child, and those are not my chosen playmates. They came a-knockin’ and I let them in, but it’s time to toss those freeloading fucknuts out onto the street where they belong.
I’m going to try to see what life can be like when I expect the best. I’ve always lived by the creed of expecting the worst and hoping for the best, in the event I would be prepared. But, guess what? I’ve faced my worst (to date), and I wasn’t ready for it. In fact, I immersed myself in a “Well, doesn’t this figure?” type of thinking. Screw that. I’d rather live out loud (to steal a phrase from Anna Quindlen) and not die inside, as I seem to have briefly permitted myself to do.
And my dream book? I expect it to be my roadmap, because I don’t want to be lost anymore. And like the headlines read last week after the Nationals won the very first game they played, I, too, am launching my undefeated season … starting right now.
Dream along with me, if you dare. …
On iTunes: Reba McEntire, “Talking in Your Sleep”