What Dreaming Feels Like

I’m a grain of sand on a vast and crowded beach.  You walk around and you step on me.  You don’t feel me.  I’m nothing to you.  I go unnoticed for years.  When the tide takes me in and carries me away, you won’t see me.  You won’t hear me.  But one day, when I’m swept away into the vast ocean and I land on a pearl, you’ll want me.  You won’t know the amount of times I’ve been buried deep in the sand and forgotten.  You won’t know the currents I’ve endured at sea or the miles I’ve traveled.  But when I’m on my pearl you’ll want me, but you won’t have me.

Somewhere between dreams and reality

Creative souls are tortured.  We have dreams and we are bold; we are imaginative and insightful.  Yet the shackles of our social prison bear heavily on us.  We are forced to sacrifice any sense of stability for our vision.  We travel down unpaved roads.  Society drains us.  It wants to close our box and mold us into bankers or lawyers.  If we have originality, drive, and vision, we are still branded losers.  Because we are poor.  We are unstable.  We are unnecessary to the machine or the greater good.  For years we live at the bottom.

[Rewind: Making My First Documentary]

When we do reach the top of the pyramid after years of climbing, we are humbled.  Our self-absorbed work has finally been recognized by the machine.  We are now dubbed worthy and we are here to stay.  But scars never fully heal.  The road has been to painful to forget about the past.  The suffering has given us an ugly edge.  We are beasts.  The attention is too much.  Our egos are inflated.  Our clenched fists feel heavier.  “I told you so,” we furiously scream; some outwardly, most of us on the inside.

“You won’t know the amount of times I’ve been buried deep in the sand and forgotten.  You won’t know the currents I’ve endured at sea or the miles I’ve traveled.  But when I’m on my pearl you’ll want me, but you won’t have me.”

Those that didn’t help out; those that didn’t believe – maybe one day we’ll forgive you, but not today.  The ship that we built by ourselves with our own weathered hands; the ship that you now see sailing freely on the high seas; that’s our ship.  It took us years to build and you’re not spoiling the ride with your bandwagon reappearance.  Where were you when I needed help?  When I needed supplies?  When the task seemed too great and I never thought I’d get anywhere anyway?  That’s who we are.  We are stubborn, unapologetic, and righteous, and we deserve to be.  In your boxed up view of the world, we are either outcasts or gods, but in reality we’ve always been the same person.   We just dared to dream and we ended up with the whole damn pie and you’re not getting a slice.

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3 Comments

Filed under Inspiration, My Personal Journey

3 responses to “What Dreaming Feels Like

  1. Jeremy

    I can absolutely relate to this and I swear from this moment on that I will take notice of every grain of sand I come across…..like literally every one. In order to accomplish this, I shall never go to the beach again!

  2. Vadim

    That was really well written my friend. Moving stuff

  3. Vadim

    Very well written my friend. That was agreat piece of work!

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