In my dreams I’m one of a kind.  I shine.  Nothing’s beyond me.   I have every unique man’s talent.  I can sing – I’m a songbird.   I can write – words are me.   I cook like something else – a gourmet no less.   A force to reckon with – the world is mine.

Wake up, this is reality.  Bills to pay.  A job to find.  There is nothing at all remarkable about me.  The world – well to the world, I’m just one more person.  No more out of the ordinary than all the others.  I’ve added nothing to it.  Of what great achievement do I boast?  Travel?  Voyages have been done – so what?  Writing – who doesn’t have a diary, a blog?  A job – nondescript, if you barely make the bills.  What good am I doing for humanity?  What mark am I making on the world?  What difference?

If I shouted my name at the park, who would know me, or care?   I’m faceless, one of the 6 billion plus .  .  .  some that know me would rather forget, many more have.

In my dreams, I shake things up.  In my dreams, I change things.  In my dreams, I’m a force to reckon with, a burst of energy to emulate.  In my dreams,  I’m vital – I matter so much.  In my dreams.  .  .

Only now I have to wake up.  Begin earning the respect I dream about, one deed at a time.  I’ll cook for my brother and me.  I’ll keep the house clean.  I’ll call my mother and visit home.  I’ll read my chapter of French and practice.  I’ll act demure and stop provoking my friends.  I’ll keep a promise.  I’ll write another sentence of my book – my best-seller for real?  I’ll go apply for one more job,  not giving up yet.   I’ll smile through it all.

Someday,  I’ll begin living my dreams.  One more deed bridging life and dream.  Someday I’ll no more ask, whatever for?  I’ll know.

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