All I have to do is dream

Matt and I were watching Donny Deutsch's "Big Idea" show last night. Bill Gates was the show's guest, so Matt and I curiously watched.

The thing with Bill Gates is, you really wouldn't know he's insanely rich by watching him. The man has a $12 Cost Cutters hair cut, non-designer glasses (as far as I can tell - they're probably still very expensive) and doesn't wear shirts that are eleventy-billion thread count (yes I know that applies to sheets, but I'm just sayin').

But, wow, he's incredibly smart. Even answers to simple questions lit a fire under his ass and he spoke with the eloquence of a well-adjusted public speaker. At least the money he's spending on image is money well spent!

Of course, Donny asked what Bill Gates has on his iPod. Eh heh heh, he made a funny! Donny the Douche, ladies and gentlemen!

Ultimately, the viewing of the show lead Matt to say, "What would we do with all that money?" Before I could even ellicit an intelligent response (pay off debt, buy a solid house, cars, etc.), he said, "We wouldn't live here."

That answer surprised me. In my lifetime, I always dreamed of living anywhere but boring ol' Minnesota - Las Vegas, Colorado, Texas to name a few. So I asked, "Where would we live?!"

"I'd live on a lake. Do lots of fishin' ..."

Again, I was surprised. I expected him to say he'd live somewhere warm and sunny. Or even in Colorado. Summoning my courage, I said, "Well ... see, I have this dream." I stopped.

"What?"

"Well, ... I want to write. If I ever became a famous author, I'd have a cabin in the North Woods, maybe on a lake, maybe not. Anyway, I'd go up there for a summer and just write. It'd be my solace." Suddenly, I realized how romantic the idea sounded. Being away from here without really leaving ... taking walks in the woods, spotting the first Lady's Slipper, bird watching, and cranking out about five hours of solid (or sometimes not) writing a day. Meanwhile, Matt goes fishing or hiking ... and nights would be spent sitting on the dock with a glass of wine or two (which is funny, because I really don't care for wine).

Maybe someday a novel will spill out of me. I think I'd have a pen name. I bet my maiden name would sell way more books.

It could happen. But I have to figure out what to write, first. And how to write. I don't much care for writing groups, but I suppose it would behoove me to join one.

This all went through my head far quicker than it took to write. I ended my thoughts with a simple, "It's stupid to dream."

Ah, the good ol' cynicism.

Matt admonished, "It's not stupid to dream!"

I know he's right, but I'm the logical one, the realist, the grounded one. I have trouble dreaming because of economics. Instead of freely dreaming, I think of how much this dream will cost. What sacrafices will have to be made. How to do it. Kids, mortgages, even furniture for a new place. And then I lose sight of the dream.

I just remind myself: All I have to do is dream and desire. Then my heart is in the right place and I can do anything.