I am glad today that I have started dreaming again. In my opinion, you only have dreams when you have hope, and if you had spoken to me a year ago, I probably had no hope. That slowly killed any dreams I had. Now, come to think of it, I have revived some of my old dreams and added a few new ones to the list.

There are many dreams I hold — some tied to reality, others to fantasy. But here is a question: do I say my dream out loud to manifest it, or do I work in silence and revel in it materializing into reality? Here’s to throwing caution to the wind. My dream is to have a home of my own and to be a writer. These are definitely the most outrageous ones on my list.

Writing has always been my passion. I do not need to be a full-time author, but to even write something that others would like to read would be enough. I want to open doors to new worlds of imagination just like books have done for me. As a child, I didn’t understand the world and its problems — everything felt too life-altering. In that small frame of mind, books gave me an escape from reality. They showed me characters of great strength, worlds where magic was possible, and how a protagonist could change the world.

But my dream of writing is not only about stories. It is about leaving behind pieces of myself in words that might comfort someone else, or spark reflection in a stranger. It is about capturing fleeting emotions before they vanish, giving them permanence in sentences. Writing is my way of building bridges between my inner world and the minds of others. It is also my declaration of individuality — a space where no one dictates the rhythm of my sentences or the worlds I create. In writing, I find the same freedom I long for in a home of my own.

The other dream I have always kept close to my heart is the dream of a house of my own. It is a strong desire to express my individuality. I am the youngest at home, and in my family the elders always hold sway in decisions. I do have a room of my own, and one would say that is a luxury in itself. However, I cannot change anything in the room without permission from my parents or elder sister. Not that it is a bad thing — I tend to make impulsive decisions — but I would really like to decorate my home to match my aesthetics. Our family home is my mother’s space, and I would not want to disrupt her image of a perfect home. Yet seeing her has also inspired me. It is one reason I want to make a space of my own, free of the influences of my family, where every corner reflects me.