{ originally posted 2017 }
This morning I woke up from an auspicious dream about me and a hot local writer, who has become even more stunning ever since I started writing about him.
Due to an unlikely turn of events the writer and me were located at the same building. Kind of an creative-urban-retreat thing that would last only for a few days. This was my chance to spend time with him, girlfriend free.
And I wasn’t the only one looking forward to that.
Soon enough we were more engaged in each other, than with our next novel. Our make out sessions were absolutely wonderful, and I couldn’t wait to take things further. But there was a problem.
I hadn’t waxed my legs.
Just like in real life, I had a few super thin hairs, scattered sparsely over my legs. So it wasn’t like I was growing legwarmers or anything, but it was a deal breaker non the less. I wasn’t going to get intimate with someone dramatically close to my dream man, with anything less than a perfectly groomed body.
I woke up with a strong desire to wax my legs.
But the dream was more than that. In a few months I will see him, and I had pictured our rendez vous as my personal reward for getting my new body. I ve designed a program where I will get my pre-work addicted body back before the year is over. But despite having the best intentions; Despite knowing exactly what the main reason is I gained this (hence the classification pre-work addicted body);
Despite my yoga practice being accountable, because recorded for my membership group?
It still didn’t work..
Painful as it is to admit, I m getting nowhere. Well, almost nowhere. I did seem to have lost an inch around the belly, and my body has responded incredibly well to the few work-outs that I actually did, but mentally?
I m nowhere.
This weekend I gave in to my suppressed and therefor accumulated need to write blog posts, and I totally binge wrote. My awareness was either with the party I would later write about, or with the stories I was forming in my head running some mandatory errands, or my awareness was in my computer.
Which was my favorite place, because then I could get stuff out of my head and into a blog post.
After every blog post I felt light and refreshed.
But I was also hyper aware of my deplorable physical state. Unshowered, hadn’t seen daylight, still in pajamas, and it had gotten too dark to record a good yoga video. Should I miraculously have found the inspiration to do anything more than taking a shower for half an hour until my limb body parts had some life in them again.
And the addiction to writing hit me even worse because I still had the dream of losing 15 kilos and getting my old body back! But Plan A – getting fattening stress and work addiction under control – was absolutely unattainable. And my idea of becoming addicted to my yoga mat instead was downright hilarious. But getting thin with a work addiction, felt as impossible as dropping the pounds on a diet of peanut M&Ms.
The whole reshape plan had to go back to the drawing board.
This morning, I realized; you don’t dream somebody else’s dream. And you don’t live somebody else’s life. If writing comes through me, and wants to be born through me, not someone else, then that is my dream. That is my life. That is ME.
And if I have the desire to drop 15 kilos than that is my dream as well.
By thinking the only way I can lose weight is by ditching the highly addictive, blog based, daily online writing, I am basically sacrificing one part of myself for the other. It’s as stupid as cutting off an arm in order to lose weight; you’re going to need that, and it’s a part of you!
Not only do I believe that you only dream your own dreams.
I also believe that once you dream it, you can do it.
Plan A might have flawed, but I m glad it did. Because now I am forced to look for a way to manifest that the dream of having quiet time on the mat, and being athletic and thin, without cutting off the proverbial arm of my writing. If I currently, in this moment, have both dreams (of being thin, and being a writer), it means both dreams are mine, and both can become reality.
I don’t dream someone else’s dreams. Not one, not two, not even if I had a hundred of them they would still be all mine to have.
And even if the hot writer chooses his own path, makes his own decisions, and does not end up with me in December, it still doesn’t mean the dream wasn’t mine to have.
Just that I need to wax my legs more often.
<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living
You don’t dream somebody else’s dream will be published in the first English book under my real name:
I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
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