I had a dream last night, now don’t laugh, with Bon Jovi. If you’ve read my about me you know I have a bit of an obsession with him (and the band, but this dream was just with Jon). No, you dirty birdie, it wasn’t one of those hot sexy dreams that leaves you wanting more. Unfortunately. Ha, now who’s the dirty birdie. But this was just as good, if not better.
We were in New York City and had met up somewhere. I don’t know why or where, circumstances were a little fuzzy, but I vividly remember the contents of the dream. We sat down in an intimate little area, just the two of us, and started to have a really deep discussion. At first I tried to ask him about his life like what inspires him, how to start a soul kitchen, what books does he like, but he waived me off. He said we had more important things to talk about. Like what’s my passion. I said reading and writing. I want to write novels, be an author and make a living doing just that. Then he asked me what was holding me back. I tried to ask him about himself again (typical me, deflect the hard questions), but he said he wasn’t here to talk about that. He gave me the hard stare until I relented. And I said every word of what I’m afraid to admit to myself. That I’m scared. I don’t believe in myself. And following this path seems so impossible. You know what he said? Well, first he leaned back and nodded. Told me that’s how he used to feel in the beginning too. But he kept doing what he loved because it felt right. And when he thought about giving up that’s when the magic happened.
Then he said, “Just keep writing. Things will happen.”
I woke up soon after and ever since then I haven’t been able to get those words out of my head. Not that I want to. I’m going to file them under inspiration and when the going gets tough I’ll use them to fuel the fire. Because I believe that someday things are going to happen and in the meantime I’m just gonna keep on writing.