Fantasy

I have this dream that I don't share with anyone because I'm afraid people will think it's stupid, or pointless, or, worse, arrogant and presumptuous. What people think of me is something I seem to consider desperately important. Anyway, the dream goes like this:



I write. I write beautiful, soulful works that touch on some unique human element that doesn't get explored a lot in modern fiction. I write so wonderfully that it changes lives.

I become wealthy enough to live comfortably, if not luxuriously. I become something of an institution in the nightlife of the city of my choosing (Seattle would be my first choice). I'm witty and smart, if withdrawn and sometimes aloof. I have a few really good friends, and a large collection of friendly acquaintances. I give generously to charity, civil rights groups, or even just directly to random people that need it.

Sometimes I open up some kind of book/gaming shop. I hire only veterans and the homeless because someone needs to give them an opportunity. It's the kind of place the dispossessed can go to hang out and learn things, something I didn't really have myself.

My books become video games or movies. I've fantasized my primary story, my opus of rage and grace, being turned into a trilogy of movies. I have fantasized revealing the first of these movies, produced in secret, at a San Diego Comic Con panel. People think they're coming just to hear me and others talk about this comic series, and they all settle in, and then the lights go down.

Cult of Personality by Living Colour begins to play.

"And during the few moments that we have left, I wanna talk right down to earth in a language that everybody here can easily understand," says Malcolm X. The opening riff plays, then the drums open up.

"Look in my eyeeeeeees!"

The screen erupts in flashes of scenes from the comic, only they're live-action. Crucible, the fire-wielding malcontent, appears fully costumed with her expression pure attitude. The room explodes at the realization of what they're seeing. The full length of the song plays, and at the end, just before FDR, we hear Galena chuckle.

Hearing that room explode is when I know I've made it. That's when I know that all the pain and misery, all the loneliness and anguish, the nights spent genuinely not knowing whether I wanted to live, was worth it. That's the moment I know that I have taken all of it, channeled it into this great work, and expressed that pure essence that has been so elusive for so many who've come before me.

I think I hate this fantasy. At best, I think it sets myself up for disappointment and glosses over the years of hard work it takes to be successful in a saturated market. At worst, it means I'm full of myself, and I feel I don't deserve to be successful if I'm arrogant.

I've long had trouble separating fantasy and reality. This has shown up most frequently when I try to role-play in various MMOs, or this Star Trek RPG I'm involved in. I get so wrapped up in my characters, and early on it used to consume me. I would obsess over my characters and their relationships. I would be devastated if things didn't go right, and I would take the in-character actions of other players personally.

I keep trying to make my life fit into a narrative because that's how I think. That's how I process things. Everything is a story. But that's not reality. That's not the truth. I didn't suffer when I was young so that I would be successful later in life. There isn't some kind of cosmic balance that will reward me with good to cancel out the bad. Even if I were the most talented storyteller who ever lived, I would not be guaranteed success because the universe is random, and luck often accomplishes more than skill.

And so I keep coming back to the same inevitable realization that I can't keep hoping to be repaid for the horrible things that were done to me. There is nothing that can take it away, and there is nothing that can make it worthwhile. I just have to accept it for what it is, and despite all the progress I've made, I still don't know how to do that. I may never know.

What I do know is that all I have left is storytelling. It's all I really know how to do, and it's the only thing I'm really good at. It's all I can contribute. Whether or not I'm successful isn't going to change that, so there's no point to having that fantasy. It is irrelevant to what will be.

Even if it is nice to dream.