This morning I went to bed at 1:00 and woke up 5:00 in order to fly out-of-town for a writing assignment. Thankfully I packed last night; I don’t function well at such an ungodly hour. Still, I managed to throw the rest of my things together, scarf down some leftover Mexican food that I mixed with two scrambled eggs for breakfast, and pour a cup of coffee down my throat before it was time to leave the house at 5:45.

My friend Bonnie volunteered–volunteered!–to drive me to the Fort Smith airport, which is further proof of her being a true friend. And whereas I got held up by TSA the last time I went through airport security because they wiped down every single one of my peanut bars in their relentless search for explosives residue, this morning I breezed through the entire screening process. Later I texted Bonnie, “No one wanted to touch my nuts today!”

Typical.

From Fort Smith I flew to Dallas, then to Nashville. And other than feeling like I was being herded on and off the plane, everything went fine. Well, wait–my luggage did get wet while it sat on the tarmac in the rain. But just my underwear got soaked, and they’ll dry out. Plus, as we’ve already established, nobody sees those anyway.

While flying, I finished reading the book by Richard Moss I mentioned yesterday about dreams, coincidences, and imagination. And call it a coincidence, but just as I was reading about coincidences, I saw a friend of mine from college at the Fort Smith airport. Then on my first flight I ended up in a window seat on aisle 9, which is cool because 9 is my favorite number. Then the man beside me asked me if I wanted to move to his wife’s aisle seat (also on aisle 9) so they could sit together, which I gladly did because I HATE window seats. (The wife said, “He didn’t ask ME if I wanted to sit by him.”) Lastly, on my second flight, I got another aisle seat, and this time there was an empty seat next to me. AH–room to breathe.

Thanks, universe!

Currently I’m in a mini-van with two other journalists and one of this trip’s organizers. We’re headed to Cookeville, TN, then–I think–Cumberland Mountain State Park, which is in Crossville. (We’re back and forth between these two places for a few days.) Honestly, that’s about all I know. At some point we’ll eat dinner, then it’s up early tomorrow for a full day of activities. I believe mine are outdoors. It’s cold here. Crap. I hate the cold (and window seats).

It’ll be fine, Marcus.

As my friend Marla says, “No whining on the yacht.”

In other words, “Shut your pie-hole, Coker, your life is pretty fabulous.”

In the book I read today in the section on imagination, the author says that imagination is a VITAL component in making your dreams come true. (The other vital component is hard work.) Personally, I don’t have a problem imagining all sorts of wonderful things, like a different career, a healthier body, or an age-appropriate partner who knows the difference between “your” and “you’re.” However, I often get hung up BELIEVING that these things can become a reality. And that’s scary–to have a dream you’re not fully confident in.

The book asks, “How many people do you know who are in need of a dream?” Wow–what a great question. I guess we all know people who are stuck–who can’t imagine either themselves or their lives improving. Seen from this perspective, I realize now how important it is to be able to both dream AND believe in your dream. Because you’re gonna believe in something; it’s just a matter of whether what you believe will happen is positive or negative. And surely we could all use a positive dream to cling onto. For me, being able to imagine a better life and hold onto that imagination is simply another way to hope, to have faith that your cold days will turn into warm days, that life can move you from the window to the aisle seat.*

[*If you have a different seat preference, change this metaphor accordingly.]