Dreams are weird. Like, let’s just say that out loud because I think we’re all a little too precious about them sometimes. Everyone wants to talk about “chasing their dream” like it’s this golden ticket waiting to be unwrapped, but if we’re being honest, most of us treat our dreams like something fragile. We tiptoe around them, scared of breaking them, scared of what it’ll mean if they don’t come true. But what if the problem isn’t that the dream is fragile? What if the problem is that you’re holding it all wrong?
There’s this unspoken rule about dreams that I think is total garbage: the idea that your dream has to be this perfect, polished thing before you can even tell anyone about it. Like you can’t let anyone see the rough edges or the half-baked ideas because they’ll laugh or shrug or, worse, ignore it altogether. So, we get stuck. We keep it to ourselves, tweaking it endlessly, waiting for the perfect moment to share it with the world. And then what happens? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Because nobody cares about the thing you’re too scared to show them.
I learned that the hard way. I once had this idea—a big, exciting, world-changing kind of idea—and I was obsessed with it. But I was also terrified. Terrified it wasn’t good enough. Terrified I wasn’t good enough. So, I did what a lot of us do: I hid it. I worked on it in secret, convinced that one day, I’d have this “ta-da!” moment where everyone would finally see how brilliant it was. Spoiler alert: that moment never came.
Because here’s the thing about dreams: they don’t grow in a vacuum. They grow when you drag them out into the world, messy and unfinished and awkward as hell, and let people react to them. Let them love it, hate it, misunderstand it. Let them tell you it’s stupid or genius or both. It’s only then, in that messy, uncomfortable space, that you figure out what the dream actually is.
And let’s talk about the people you’re sharing it with because, let’s be honest, most of us are shouting into the wrong rooms. We’re pitching our dreams to crowds who don’t care or who just aren’t the right audience. Then we wonder why it doesn’t land. It’s like standing on a street corner trying to sell a winter coat in July. It doesn’t matter how great the coat is; no one’s buying it.
But when you find the right audience? The people who’ve been waiting for exactly what you’ve got? It’s magic. You don’t have to shout or beg or wave your arms around. They just get it. And suddenly, the thing that felt so impossible starts to feel, I don’t know, real.
I think the other thing that screws us up is this idea that dreams have to stay big and shiny and far away. We treat them like a North Star—beautiful but untouchable. And while we’re staring at the sky, we trip over the tiny, obvious steps right in front of us. Because that’s all a dream really is, isn’t it? A series of small steps. You don’t just wake up one day and have it. You build it, piece by piece, over time, by showing up and doing the work.
I don’t know who needs to hear this, but stop making it so complicated. Stop waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect idea, the perfect audience. It doesn’t exist. Start where you are, with what you have, and let it be messy and weird and imperfect. Because the truth is, you’re going to screw it up anyway. We all do. But that’s not what matters. What matters is that you’re trying, that you’re showing up, that you’re giving the dream a chance to become something real.
And if you’re still stuck, if you’re still waiting for permission to go for it, here it is: Do it. Make the thing. Share the idea. Take the leap. Because honestly? The only way to fail is to not try at all.
There’s a video where I go into this a little more—where I talk about why most people never see their dreams through. Maybe it’ll give you that extra push, or maybe you’ll just find it entertaining. Either way, I’ll drop the link here.
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