I’m not quite sure what happened, but my dream seemed to just float away.

Strangely, I fell back into the theatre career I started before I left Canberra – but at least I’ve narrowed down my particular area of interest.

My early dreams were writing and making computer games. I worked for a computer games company for 3 years. That was a lot of fun, but I wanted to try something different after that.
Travelling has been my main dream of recent years. I’ve visited more than 50 countries in the last 10 years and spent more than 2 years just travelling. So don’t think I’ve done too badly in that department.
Time to focus some more on writing goals. Going to Clarion South this year helped give me more determination to try and get a novel published.

My dream used to overwhelmingly be to become a professional actor in the UK. Now it’s 10 years later and I’m simply not in the position for that to be likely any more – older, fatter, working to provide for a disabled spouse, etc. I took too long to get going, life factors got in the way, and now I’m resigned to finding other goals in life based mainly around writing.

Does it depress me? Absolutely and completely, but on the other hand I have a beautiful and hilarious wife and really cool friends, so it’s not like I’ve exactly lost out by abandoning the dream.

Hmmm… not sure I’ve ever had dreams of grandeur.

Which is either terribly sad, or just content-making

Ha!

There’s no dreaming. Just doing, and being.

Somewhere along the line I managed to earn a black belt in ju-jitsu. That’s a very good metaphor right there: I’ve practised the art on and off for two decades. I never really thought about doing the black belt grading. I just practised the art because I liked it. And then one day they told me I had to grade…

Children? Same sort of thing. Never really thought about it, but there they are. Nice things they are, too.

I write because I like it. Publication was a surprise, but pleasant. I rather hope to keep doing it, and even on a larger scale, but if that doesn’t happen, I’ll still be writing, and still telling stories.

Maybe stories are what I got instead of dreams?

Dreamed of being a writer, and kinda got there, but I’ve since realised (and come to terms with the fact) that I’m probably never going to be a successful or brilliant writer. Now I dream of owning a specfic specialty bookshop, and have geared my daily life towards attaining that by the time I hit 45. Seems doable, touch wood. Goals are dangerous things for any recovering-depressive chronic underachiever to have. :/

The other dream I abandoned was that of winning a Nobel prize. Now I have my sights set on winning an IgNobel prize instead – a much more realistic (and possibly much cooler) goal.

I’m chasing the dream of being a writer now, and I’ve not abandoned the idea of being an actor but are just leaving it lie until the time is right (and I have the time). I used to dream of being cool, but there are just some things you can’t have

At the moment, a lot of dreams or interests seem to be returning to me eg dancing. It’s going to be interesting to see where my life goes over the next couple of years.

As you know, I’ve recently begun to work on my dream of becoming a successful author. I crossed a major confidence bridge when I began to describe myself as a writer, about a year ago. Whether I ever published THE NOVEL or anything else major is yet to be seen, but at least I am writing again after many years or not, which to my way of thinking means that I am a writer.
I achieved 2 other dreams from childhood quite unexpectedly when I was with my ex. I learned to ride a horse and lived on a farm (though my childhood dream of farm life was rather different to the reality of working on a cattle station).