Our Dream Don’t Expire

In my teens, I dreamed about becoming a seamstress. I didn’t know myself well enough yet to understand why, but the desire to create was too strong not to act on it.

I thought making clothes would be a cool and fun thing to do, and not only for practical reasons. The eighties’ fashion was loud and boisterous, while I was dreaming of impossible things like garments in one colour and elegant dresses with pockets. I could barely draw, mind you, and my knowledge of fabrics and sewing was non-existent.

Long story short, I didn’t become a seamstress, but I was surprised to discover that the desire to sew was still there decades later. Not only was it there, it sprang to life the moment I touched it. Three sewing courses and many new items of clothing later, I found myself rearranging our flat to make space for all the new creations and tonnes of fabrics I’d hoarded. It was almost as if blowing the dust off an old dream had somehow magically brought it to life.

I realised, then, that our dreams don’t expire. They’re traces of who we are. The moment we give them any attention, they light up and stoke that fire that makes us feel so alive.

To make things clear, I have no intention of becoming a seamstress, though I’ll certainly sneak one or two into my stories. Writing, too, was one of those things I loved doing but hadn’t seriously considered until I was in my thirties. It dawned on me then that it was what I was meant to do. When I got the chance to write full-time, I jumped at it and it completely transformed my life. I understood then what my teenage self hadn’t known, that I needed to create and that crafting stories was how I wanted to do it. Not only was it incredibly satisfying, it felt right. Work felt less like work and much more like a calling. I wanted to learn more, get better and write better stories.

But it also put me under pressure. I knew I’d never be happy doing anything else. I had to make it work. Suddenly, I was no longer choosing between this or that job, but between being myself and being someone else. Chasing a dream was no longer enough. I had to fight for it, too.

A year ago, when LeVar Burton read out my short story, ‘Three Roses’, on his podcast, I felt this surreal giddiness and an urge to pinch myself. No previous promotion or reward had ever made me feel as accomplished or as fulfilled. It was a dream come true in every sense. Other writers would reach out and share kind words about my story and my writing and ask for advice to move on with their projects. Helping them brought me deep pleasure and a realisation that I wanted to do more of that. So enrolling in a certification course to become a book coach felt more like a continuation than a new beginning.

I’m ending this year as an Author Accelerator certified book coach for fiction, feeling incredibly excited about the year ahead. What’s better than crafting stories and helping other writers do the same?

I know what it feels like to want something and not know how to get there or to think you’re not good enough. Well, buckle up, because those dreams aren’t going anywhere. However old, wild or impossible, they’ll wait patiently for a moment of your time.

A wise person told me we can only ever work with who we are, not who we want to be. I sincerely hope that in 2025, your dreams will bring you closer to yourself.