While perusing the boob tube last evening I paused (rather then run to the kitchen for snacks) and gave Dennis Hopper my attention as he reminded me about my future dreams and retirement. Usually I just enjoy the awesome music as it flashes images of long ago teen happenings, this time I focused on the message.
What are my dreams? As he states, dreams don't retire. When exactly did I want to be a writer? Soon after I read my first chapter book. I have distinct recollections of sitting in Mrs. Lipnick's 3rd grade class, reading some book (pity I can't remember the book) and thinking, "I could do this. I will do this. I'm going to write a book."
I've carried those thoughts with me always. At times that goal/dream was hidden by subway rides to work, falling in love, semester exams, potty training, counted cross stitch, PTA meetings, fire ants, okay the list could go on and on forever. My point is I've always known that one day I would write a book. And I have.
Now I add addendum to my dreams: get that book published and write another and another and another.
My dreams haven't retired they have piled into my RV of a brain and are cruising for ideas!
Sweet dreams and happy musings!
17 hours ago