Where We Start Our Stories

A couple months ago, I was telling my partner about a dream I had where: “I had won an Emmy and was moving my desk and I had the Emmy on my desk and then basically had to move it but then the librarians took it but then I was able to get it back from them and explain that it was mine. They didn’t ask for ID or anything; they were really nice about it.”

Immediately, back in the land of the waking, he requested a reasonable rewind, “wait go back; why did you have an Emmy?”

I told him I didn’t know. That wasn’t part of the story. I just had an Emmy. 

I wrote ceaselessly as a child. And every time I would start a new journal, I would set the scene. I am seven years old. My brothers are 11 and 14. I live in Pennsylvania. My teacher’s name is this. My favorite subject is that. 

Every diary began with heavy orientation—an elementary schooler's who, what, where, why, and how of it all. 

I am 31 years old. My brothers are 35 and 38. I live in New York. My boss’s name is this. My favorite activity is that. 

But my dream that night? It dropped me right into a world where I had an Emmy and not a lot of answers for anything happening around me. 

Or maybe I didn’t need the context for the Emmy because that wasn’t the important part of the story. My takeaway upon waking wasn’t about the award but rather the fact that the librarians were really kind and helpful. 

I spend a lot of time thinking about the way we tell stories and specifically the stories we tell about ourselves. If every experience is a part of us, it makes sense that it stays with us long after it ends. But I also wonder if we sometimes spend too much time setting the scene that we miss the critical event. We get too distracted by the big flashy prize that we miss the true moral.

Rather than waking up thinking about an awards show that I never watch, I woke up thinking about the kindness of others. And what a fun way to wake up. And what a fun reminder that we can choose what to focus on… and if we’re choosing what to focus on, we might as well choose where to begin.

And if I am starting my own story, I want to start it gently. I want to start it kindly. And I want to start it with a scene being set for joy.