My mind just kept coming back to the orange and purple sky I had seen so serene and full of life before i stepped out into the cold, ruthless woods. The sky was beautiful from every angle- the orange fusing into the purple as if they were two entangled sheets. Eventually, the orange would engulf the purple. I could see the faint outline of stars shining beneath the blanket of sky, trying to stitch their loveliness alongside. My breathing became rhythmic in their silent splendor, my strides graceful, and my cool cheeks budding white and pink- exposed to the crisp evening. The chill wind swept inside my windbreakers as if a single log were trying to dam a whole river; at once, the icy tendrils were painful against my dry skin. My breathing began to adjust within the fist mile of a slow run. My hands were not as capable of breaking through the initial arctic, and my feet were solely absorbed on the task of balancing on the ice. Surrounding me was beauty- the greatness of a faded constellation, and the gradient of the vibrant clouds veiling it. Ensnared in this dream world, I began to wonder what I wanted in my reality that could equal this greatness. My sense of imagination, intoxicated with awe, was fantasizing of endless successes in the future.

The smell of the forest, void of civilization, reminded me I was completely alone. Here, I realized my greatest fear in life- living up to my dreams. The sting of the blood in my chest reminded me of their vulnerabilities to being defeated as I continued on my run.

My goals haunt me every day because of the greater possibility of failing rather than succeeding. I could not envision myself part of an unaccomplished world in ten years after building an image for so long and wanting success so badly. The fall could be devastating. However, sometimes I feel more intimidated by the journey to realizing my dreams than by the hard work needed to succeed. I’m afraid of being overcome from so much fantasy. I feel that my dreams, like the forest, will breathe me in with their own stinging chests if I sit idle for a moment in rest after miles of effort.

To fear my dreams is to fear the unknown. I’m afraid of what will happen to my life if I sit lackadaisically under that orange and purple sky. The orange could become unnaturally vivid the longer I sit- shifting, flowing, gliding across the sky above while obscuring in its hued wake the pinpricks of stars beneath, moving my dreams farther away. The forest’s icy breath would blow out white fog like warmth, diffusing murkiness all around the area as I sit camouflaged in the dull grass. Steadily, I would blend into a valley of average people just like me.

Shaking from exasperation, a cracking glacier, I ended my run emerging from the trees like some mythological creature- still wearing the remnants of a brilliant glamour. Sacrificing my dream world for the harsh handshake of civilization, I approached my car. Open, lock, ignite. The cold simply billowed past the metal armor of the swinging door.

Jolted back into reality, I wondered if any of the dreams I had dreamt while running were capable of triumph, or if the possibility of victory had just seemed more attainable because of the stars’ ever-present greatness. I wondered if I could ever really chase my dreams without feeling the pull of mediocrity wrapped around my waist.

The last image I have burned in my mind from the run is the silhouetted outline of a tree standing alone- the fading colors of the evening mapped around its black branches to scatter light around the darkness. I have realized that to live up to my dreams I have to use this light to illuminate the work I’ve set out to accomplish and to brighten the outcomes with belief in myself.