The Color of Dreams

hThe Color of Dreams

When I was younger, lets say thirty-five years ago, I owned some dreams. They resided in my head, mostly in my heart, and they swirled like a flock of energetic birds heading for warm southern climes. I would someday realize my potential. I would write something of huge consequence. I would show people a world of wonder. I would wow people with my insight and wisdom.

My dreams manifested in my mind as multi-hued, vibrant gases with no gravitational pull. I floated through them on whimsy, flying like superman in my own little world. The colors, oh my, were so aggressive, so surreal, I knew one day they would form into something big.

Today, I look at the reality of those dreams Most were tied to writing. Some were tied to a woman. Not just any woman, but a woman who knew who she was. A woman who could be herself and love kindly. Softly. Be feminine. Be gentle. Be strong. The writing would stand as brilliant. Hoards of folks would flock to my words as beacons of hope and pillars of creativity.

This all sounds delusional, doesn’t it? Did I really ever think this way? Did I ever stop to contemplate what the “dream” looked like?


I simply allowed the dream to exist. I felt the dream more than saw the dream. I could not draw lines from reality to the internal goal because I could not see what solidified in my heart. Likely because nothing formed from all the chaos. I have written extensively about that chaos. I say extensively, I wrote a book in November titled, “Inking Your Thinking ~ The Mindset of Writing.”

This book attempts to describe creativity in a manner relevant to people who think and feel along the lines I do. I know they’re out there. I run into them every day. I see them struggling. I feel their pain. I’m still one of them, a recovering left brain analytic. I attempt in “Inking” to walk people through their own minds, their own nebulous gasses of chaos, and into something more concrete which will allow them to touch their dream.

Isn’t that what we dreamers strive for? A simple touch of the dream? More like a mental, conscious observation that what we do has merit, what we do helps, what we do influences and changes people’s lives for the better?

I do not desire for this post to be without form and void. What I desire is that you, the reader, find hope in the concepts which plague us. When you own your creativity, when you step up and determine you will let it out, the risk and the lack of a safety net will often plummet you back to Mundania. You will reenter the world of people instead of the world of wonder.

Writing is my chosen medium of artistic expression. I love the challenge. I know I will never achieve the visuals and the tangible concepts I hope to extract from my psyche and expound upon with intelligence. If my words reach only a few, at least I will have impacted someone for the better. Inspired the dream of writing. brought a little creative reality to their world so they do not feel so handcuffed in their attempts to express themselves. Helping people write is what I do best.

When you write, you have bad writing days. You have days where you wonder what the hell you’re doing. You  have days where you think you’ve written something of consequence, then you’ll look it over and storm away in disgust. This area is the place I wish you to get past. You will never proceed as long as your internal demons, mostly linked to your internal “judge,” hold court and deliver verdicts. You don’t have to judge your work. All you have to do is write your truth.

This has become my “color” of creativity. My dreams do not stand as vibrant as the ones I held over a quarter century ago. Darkness rules many areas of my dreams. The grays and blacks of life clutter my misshapen internal landscape, with wild passions of vibrant reds and golds and purples and blues and greens tainted and tarnished with ugly browns and grays and dull, washed-out whites and pastels.

What the hell am I talking about?


I once believed everything in life would work out. I would accomplish things. I would rise above my expectations. I would write and be read. While I have accomplished some writing goals – I have nine published books with a tenth on the way (Inking Your Thinking). I’ve written twenty manuscripts. I write loads of poetry which I feel is pretty good. I write blogs and stories which entertain me if no one else. I help others learn how to access their creativity. Yet it all is tainted by the realities of life.

No idyllic life of writing fame. No notoriety which carries a paycheck worth crowing about. No hoards, just some faithful followers who themselves strive to realize their nebulous dreams. We all wish to be more than we are. Ok, that’s a global statement, one which I feel is accurate, but I will back it off a bit. Most of us wish to be more than we seem in other people’s eyes. This is where I believe we miss the boat. At least, this is where I sense I miss my boat.

Maybe I need to be more in my own eyes. Maybe I need to see that what I do to encourage others has merit. There is so much judgment in this world. So much measurement against arbitrary standards which change person to person, instant to instant, circumstance to circumstance, audience to audience.

I’m convinced, folks, that if you pursue your creativity, the standard you set yourself is the only one to trust, and even that standard should be constantly questioned. Shake off your insecurities. Your creativity needs no form. In fact, strolling through the mists of color, the blacks, the grays, the faded pastels, the vibrant reds and golds and oranges, snatching the fruit of who you are, may be the only reward you see.

Yes, we can measure what we write in word count, in pages, in articles, in books. Our measurements may be calibrated against a scale of monetary influx or lack thereof. But do we satisfy ourselves with these tangible measurements, or are the real prizes the sense of accomplishments, the freeing of our truths from our hearts into a crazy world, the knowledge that we sit down each day and purpose to add something of consequence to this world?

I’m sure there are many who would not follow my train of thought here. After all, the writing emanates from my little mind…and my huge heart. The writing need not make sense to the masses. The concepts need not resonate with every reader. First and foremost, the writing should reflect the larger image in my heart and be a worthwhile attempt at sharing. The secondary importance would be that you, a reader, find something of merit.

My belief is that we, as creative people, cannot reach anyone else unless we first reach ourselves. I know this – if I write solely for others, my heart is not committed. When I give of myself, the purer that giving is, the stronger the connection with the end reader.

My hope will always be that you, the reader, find something of merit to carry you forward. That my words and my struggling attempts at articulating the chaotic creativity within me will somehow, someway, boost your creative juices, inspire your heart to strive, and help you change our world. I’m no well-studied psychiatrist with book knowledge and intricate study of the human psyche. I’m just a guy who loves this life, loves the creativity within each of us, and someone who wishes to help others find their voice. That’s all.

And that’s enough for one lifetime…

The business side of this? I do run a five week workshop which owns a goal of getting your book out of you and into reality. I’ve helped over one hundred people realize their dream of writing a book. If you wish to get your story out of you, whether fiction or non fiction, and you need help, consider looking into my workshop. The signup may be found here:

I offer the workshop in person at Change Jar Books in Flagler Beach, FL and as an online, live webinar. The next workshop begins the first week in February and runs for five weeks. Online webinars will be on Mondays at 10am or 6:30pm. The face-to-face workshop will be Thursdays at 6:30pm. You may also sign up on my site at

Categories: Writing A Book | Tags: , , | 2 Comments

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2 thoughts on “The Color of Dreams

  1. Reblogged this on Olde Hippie and commented:
    I dream of one day being a competent writer and touching a few souls

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