Fighting for What Matters

Last night, something unusual happened.

I slept.

Not the tossing and turning, waking every hour, half sleep that has been my normal for months. No. A full, rich night’s rest. My tracker confirmed it, and the best part? I dreamed. When I woke, I remembered the dream, felt it all the way through my soul.

In the dream, I was fighting. Not against monsters, not against faceless foes, but against everything that tries to pull me away from what matters most. Weird battles, true, mostly involving saving a strange beast as part of a test that I needed to pass. I struggled, and I won, handing the beast off to my teachers.

In the end, my prize for winning?

It was my first Spaceport book. Laughingly, I remember the teacher’s comments: “Done with the beta readers, all ready to go to final editing.”

Ah, Spaceport. The book that I’ve been struggling with, the one teachers and agents have told me is a complete waste of time, but the one my children and friends most want to read.

What It Means to Me

Dreams can be mysterious, but this one was so clear I woke up laughing.

For months, I have been juggling client projects, technical rescues, and the endless swirl of business. Don’t even get me started on the changes in the sales tax laws for my state. Important work, yes, but exhausting, and most of it done with almost no sleep. Somewhere in all of that, my writing has had to fight for its place.

And yet, there it was in my dream. Waiting for me. Proof that my creative work is not just a hobby or a side project. It is the treasure I am fighting to protect.

Signs of Hope

The dream was not the only good news. I woke refreshed for the first time in far too long. And when I checked in on Reflections from the Mirror, I saw it was still holding its own in the ranks. (What? You think I follow my own advice and don’t check? Why do you think I’m so adamant that it is dangerous to check continually??? No reviews yet. May need to consider bribery… ehem… back to the point…)

Rest. Renewal. Progress.

I have oxygen in my lungs and ideas sparking around in my brain.

Small things, maybe. But after the long stretch of feeling like I was barely alive, they feel huge.

And that makes me very happy.

‘Scuse me… I need to go and finish a book.