your dreams are the same as mine

picture found here.

Two months ago, I saw a preview for the movie "Something Borrowed." I had heard of the book in the past and was familiar with the author's name but never took the time to search the shelves and select "Something Borrowed" as the book to purchase.

After seeing the preview, my interest peaked, and I purchased the book the same afternoon.

I am not a fan of watching a movie first and then purchasing the book. I like to have recently read the book so that the characters are fresh in my mind. I enjoy the comparisons of what a character thought in a certain moment versus how the actor portrayed the character.

While my husband went to see "Thor" with friends, I watched "Something Borrowed."

I always prefer the book the movie, and this was no different. Except something happened in the middle of the theatre. I felt a familiar spark. The spark that reminds me I am called to one certain thing and that it is time to stop making excuses and to stop turning away from the one certain thing.

I have been a reader and a writer for as long as I can remember. While my mom was pregnant, my nana, a teacher and reading specialist, requested that my dad read to me. Even though he thought it strange, he did as requested. Books were a part of my upbringing. There was story time every day, and at the age of five, I announced that I knew how to read. And I proceeded to read "The Berenstain Bears Go To School."

I know now that I didn't really read the book. Instead I had memorized the words and recited them, corresponding with the illustrations.

I remember writing stories in my head as a child. I imagined myself as a mermaid and would play high school in the pool with friends. I wrote in my diary and fell asleep by dreaming about different events. I even wrote (and illustrated) my first book while in elementary school; it was about a skunk who was trapped in the local high school and then detailed the skunk's adventures.

I'm not sure why I turn away from writing. I know it is a part of my very being. Words are connected to my heart and my soul. When I hear sermons about the gifts and talents God gives people, I know my gift and talent is writing.

I have family and friends who support my writing. Who believe in me so much more than I believe in myself. And I so easily turn my head from their words. My cheeks flush. I find myself without words. And while I believe what they say in that moment, I struggle days later with remembering how valid their comments are.

But watching "Something Borrowed" caused a spark. There was a picture that flashed through my mind. A sense of peace rested on me. A soft voice whispered.

One day. One day soon. My novel - the one I have written and rewritten, the one I think about constantly, the one I both love and hate. It will be published. And maybe I will even see it on the movie screen.

(title from "poison and wine" by the civil wars)