Never mind the reason. But a Dream died years ago. I put it to rest. I packed it up in boxes and placed them in darkened places. A closet. Under the bed. In a hutch drawer [which hasn't been opened in years], and then I mourned. I mourned its passing into obscurity because it had consumed so many years and waking hours of my life.
Handwritten notes. A manual typewriter. An electronic word processor; with Spellcheck. And then came the advent of computers. There are file folders and notebooks. Index cards and floppy disks. CDs-- all brimming with visions of a grand story of Love and Contempt. Bargains and Death. Past, Present, and Future.
I was determined. Stubborn. And relentless. And then seemingly overnight-- it was all for naught. The wound of my decision ran deep. Tears flowed. Wounds scabbed and time passed. And the fading glimmer of a once ever-present Dream soon gave way to other creative endeavors and concerns of Life.
It saw a brief revival. But all too soon the shadow of its former self fell victim to nagging notions of relevancy and, "Why bother?" And during the last two year's worth of concerted Spring Cleans, there were more boxes and even darker places of a more permanent storage. Its final rest assured.
And then last week, I scrolled upon an innocent post on Facebook.
To which I immediately replied, "I did once---- Now it all has taken a back seat."
A subsequent PM conversation ensued, and ever since, my mind has been all a dither with the possibilities. What I couldn't have fathomed though, that following afternoon, was the rush of pain [and tears] that followed as I gave credence to a Facebook Friend's words of encouragement. The wound itself may well have healed. But the emotions behind its cause was ever as strong.
So here I am, once again, contemplating whether my storyline has relevance. Am I up to the challenge of seeing it to fruition? Am I capable of readdressing its full intent. It's more than a handful, and means a huge refocus on my part. And I've found a peaceable contentment in my current endeavors.
And then I scrolled upon another picture quote this morning. This Facebook Friend asked, "What dream(s) are you working on?" Mine? Has, for all intent and purpose, long been no more. It's Awakening is fragile at best. And it struggles to see the light of day. Yet evidence of its existence grows. There is energy to its cause. But I struggle with my own resolve. Or would it be better stated as Fear?
It was no easy decision to see such a dream to its rest. Yet neither was it easy to pique a new-found interest. I've shed new tears over the recent days, and wrung my hands with concern. There is much to consider.
The Forbidden World Chronicles was a Dream that consumed a huge portion of my life. I can honestly say, it nourished my soul. But is its time long passed? Or still yet to come?
Much to think on.