When I was in my high school years, I envisioned myself building a house and selling it. I wanted to make money. To have a BMW. To go to America with Work and Travel. To climb Kilimanjaro.
To have even more money. To become a millionaire. To have a hotel. To make a movie. To make shelters for dogs. To dig fountains in Africa. To help poor people and abandoned animals.
In the beginning, I used to write to Santa Claus or I used to pray to God so my dreams would come true. I also used to beg my parents so they would “honor” my wishes.
Eventually, I began to write to myself. I had a lot of dream notebooks. I always felt connected to this phenomenon. Dreaming was my anchor, my safety net, my hope for the future.
I used to be a daydreamer as a child. I remember I used to visualize my deepest fantasies. The process of dreaming, this amazing tool, always kept me engaged, taught me to focus, motivated and inspired me, pushed me on my path. I designed my destiny while dreaming. I even colored it.