Dream #1

I dream that I am a true writer. One that actually sends in works with hopes of getting published. I dream of attending writer workshops and discussing the greats. I dream of writing rituals and routines and following them. These rituals often include too much coffee causing an obnoxious amount of pacing and erratic hand guestures. I dream of sitting by an old trusty typewritter slowly pulling my written pages only to ball and shoot into a full wastebasket. After an inspirational phone conversation or people watching during a parade I dig for that special ball of trash. I dream of that hopeful feeling that must accompany placing manuscripts into large manilla envelopes and walking to a post office. I dream of smiling at the post office worker and explaining that I just finished my first book.