A while ago, I created a Spotify playlist called “Dreams or Dreams?” It’s a roulette of either “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac and various covers of that song, or “Dreams” by The Cranberries and various covers of that song. 

The two songs share little in common aside from the title. Fleetwood Mac’s song was written by Stevie Nicks after a breakup with a bandmate, while The Cranberries’ song was written by Dolores O’Riordan about a first love. Past dreams versus future dreams.

This is not going to be a musical analysis of the two songs. I don’t have the musical prowess to break down the two iconic “Dreams.” If anything, this is a mediocre segue into my own career dreams, past and future. What were dreams and what are dreams, with little in common. 

My “Dreams” (Fleetwood Mac version)

Writing is not a lifelong dream of mine. Growing up I was a math kid who believed that writing was grammar, and I was not good at grammar (I’m still not). I think homeschooling warped my perception of where kids should be at certain grade levels. 

It wasn’t until my junior year of high school, when suddenly math started making little sense, that writing was something I even considered something I could excel in. From there, the dream of writing took off.

When I started looking at colleges, I looked at English education programs because I didn’t know what I could do with a degree in writing (or English for that matter). 

Writing was always at the forefront of my mind, however. I always joked with others that my dream was writing a mediocre novel that had big enough of a cult following to sell the movie rights to a studio. I didn’t think I could make it big, but I hoped I could at least make it.

It’s been over three years since I decided to change my major. One week before the world shut down, I knew I wouldn’t be an English teacher. Looking back, it’s one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I’ll still contend that I wouldn’t have been an abysmal teacher, but I wouldn’t have been a passionate teacher. 

When I made the decision to switch out of the education program, I didn’t know what was in store for someone with a writing degree. At the time, I still thought creative fiction could be something I could eventually wander into, but if there was enough out there to support me full-time.

Countless hours of job searching made me realize there are several different options, all with different types and styles of writing. Content writing for a supply chains technology company is vastly different from writing for a baseball blog, which is vastly different from “writing” challenges for a YouTube channel. 

It’s only been three years since I decided to change my major, but I can’t remember the last time I sat down to write something creatively aside from my monthly post calvin piece. When the email came around to renew or not, I briefly considered ending my stint, with this being my final piece, but I realized I’d be giving up my only outlet on any type of creative writing.

My “Dreams” (The Cranberries version)

I overestimate how old I am. Maybe it’s the financial audit videos I’m hooked on, which often feature screaming at guests that their 20s are the best years for compound growth, that have me feel like I’m running out of time. 

The dream of writing a mediocre novel that’s good enough to sell the movie rights to is all but dead, but the dream of writing hasn’t passed. I can’t remember the last time I went a day without writing anything, even if it isn’t what I expected I’d want to do a few years ago.

I still write a daily diary, something I can’t imagine not doing. I write social posts, emails, product descriptions, and blog posts during my full-time job. I think too much about hooks and searchability now—more than I ever did when I was in school. 

I enjoy what I do. Even though I stuff evenings and weekends after my full-time job to write articles about events that have happened between one player’s games, or researching hot dogs, I haven’t experienced burnout. 

Is this something to do in the future? I have no idea. But I had no idea this was an option when I graduated on a baseball diamond. If this wasn’t in the picture until recently, I wouldn’t be surprised if new opportunities I’ve never considered appeared.

I don’t think my dreams are concrete. There’s no aspiration to be at a certain place by a certain age. But there are definitely dreams, I just don’t know what they are yet.

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