Is there something you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time but haven’t? Why haven’t you? Is it better to have dreams that may never come to pass, or to stick with those that can be readily achieved?

We all carry dreams inside us. Some are practical and within reach—learning to bake sourdough bread or finally organizing that closet that’s become a small ecosystem of its own. Others are grander and more elusive—writing a novel, traveling the world, starting a business that changes lives.

I’ve been thinking about this question from Gregory Stock’s The Book of Questions for days now. It gets at something fundamental about how we create meaning in our lives. Do we reach for the stars knowing we might never touch them, or do we set our sights on summits we know we can climb?

The Novel I Always Wanted to Write

For me, the answer is deeply personal. Since I was in 5th grade, I’ve dreamed of writing a novel. Not just starting one—actually finishing one. Creating characters and worlds and conflicts that never existed before I thought them into being. For decades, this dream sat on a high shelf, always visible but just out of reach.

Why did it take me so long? The simple answer might surprise you in its universality: I was my own worst critic.

I can’t count how many times I’d sit down, inspired and eager, fingers flying across the keyboard, only to read back what I’d written and think, “This is garbage.” I’d get a few chapters in, and that critical inner voice would grow so loud it would drown out the creative one. Every time, the same result—a document folder filled with abandoned beginnings.

I was caught in a classic paradox: I couldn’t be a writer until I’d written something good, but I couldn’t write something good until I’d practiced being a writer.

The Switch That Flipped

Then came last November—National Novel Writing Month. If you’re not familiar with NaNoWriMo, it’s this beautiful, chaotic challenge where people around the world attempt to write 50,000 words in 30 days. That’s about 1,667 words per day, every day, for a month.

I decided to try something radically different. I would write without looking back. No editing. No second-guessing. No allowing that critical voice any airtime until I typed “The End.”

It worked. For the first time in my life, I wrote a complete novel from start to finish.

And then, like breaking through some invisible barrier, I wrote a second one.

It was as if a switch had flipped inside me. All these ideas that had been backing up behind a dam of self-doubt suddenly had a channel to flow through. I discovered that I could, in fact, finish something I started. The dream I’d carried since childhood wasn’t just achievable—it was achieved.

From One Dream to the Next

Of course, the thing about dreams is their curious ability to evolve. Now that I’ve written novels, my dream has shifted. Now I want to see one published, to walk into a bookstore and see my name on a spine, to know that characters I created are living in someone else’s imagination.

This is how dreams work, I think. They’re not static things we either achieve or fail to achieve. They grow and change as we do. They respond to our actions. Sometimes achieving one dream just reveals the next one waiting behind it.

The Philosophy of Dreams

This brings us back to Stock’s question: Is it better to have dreams that may never come to pass, or to stick with those that can be readily achieved?

I think there’s wisdom in both approaches, and perhaps the most fulfilling life contains a blend of the two.

The ambitious dreams—the ones that seem just beyond our grasp—they give our lives direction and meaning. They pull us forward. Even if we never fully realize them, the pursuit itself shapes us. I wasn’t published at 25 like I once dreamed, but every attempt at writing made me a better writer, a more observant person, and taught me about persistence.

Yet there’s also deep satisfaction in setting achievable goals and meeting them. The small victories sustain us. They build our confidence and provide the stepping stones toward those bigger dreams. Each small writing project I completed gave me the confidence to tackle something larger.

The Balance of Dreaming

I’ve never been much of a goal-setter, preferring to take life one day at a time. There’s something to be said for that approach—it keeps you present, appreciative of the moment rather than always straining toward some future state of happiness.

But I’ve learned that even for a go-with-the-flow person like me, having something to reach for adds richness to life. The trick is finding the right balance between:

1. Dreams big enough to inspire you: They should make your heart beat a little faster when you think about them.
2. Goals concrete enough to act on: Break those big dreams into achievable steps that you can actually take today, tomorrow, next week.
3. Compassion for the journey: Understand that the path to any worthwhile dream includes setbacks, false starts, and moments of doubt.

When the Critic Gets Too Loud

I mentioned being my own worst critic, and I suspect many of you know exactly what I mean. That voice that says: “Who do you think you are? You’re not talented enough. You don’t have what it takes.”

Here’s what I’ve learned about that voice: it’s trying to protect you from disappointment and embarrassment, but it’s using an outdated strategy. It thinks keeping you from trying will keep you from failing. But in creative pursuits—and in life generally—not trying is the only true failure.

The breakthrough for me wasn’t silencing that critic. It was changing our relationship. Instead of letting it be the boss who could shut down the whole operation, I demoted it to a consultant who could offer suggestions but couldn’t make executive decisions.

“Thanks for your input,” I tell it now. “I’ll consider that during the editing phase. For now, we’re just getting words on the page.”

The Case for Unreachable Stars

There’s a beautiful line from the poem “Don Quixote” that goes: “To dream the impossible dream… to reach the unreachable star.”

There’s profound wisdom in that sentiment. Even dreams that seem impossible change us in the reaching. They expand our sense of what’s possible. They teach us to be brave, to persist, to reimagine our limitations.

I may never see my novel on the New York Times bestseller list (though wouldn’t that be something?), but the act of writing it has already transformed me. It’s shown me that I’m capable of more than I thought. It’s connected me with a community of other dreamers and strivers. It’s given me stories to tell beyond the ones I wrote on the page.

The Case for Achievable Goals

At the same time, there’s wisdom in setting goals we can reasonably achieve. Small wins build momentum. They create a positive feedback loop of accomplishment and motivation. They give us data about what works and what doesn’t.

When I break down “write a novel” into “write 500 words today,” suddenly the impossible becomes manageable. When I stack enough of those manageable goals together, the impossible becomes inevitable.

Perhaps this is the secret synthesis of Stock’s question: Use big dreams to set your direction, but use achievable goals to plot your course.

The Dreams We Carry

I’m curious about your dreams, dear reader. What have you carried with you for years, perhaps decades? What’s stopped you from pursuing it? And what might happen if you took just one small step toward it today?

Is there a novel inside you? A business idea? A place you’ve always wanted to see? A relationship you’ve wanted to heal? A skill you’ve wanted to master?

Whatever it is, consider this: the dream itself has value. It’s been a companion to you, a source of possibility in your life. But it might be waiting for you to give it shape in the real world, to transform it from something you think about to something you do.

The Middle Path

As with so many philosophical questions, perhaps the wisest answer lies somewhere in the middle. We need both kinds of dreams:

• The practical ones that give us regular doses of accomplishment and satisfaction
• The grand ones that stretch us beyond our current capabilities and vision

The practical dreams keep us going; the grand ones give us somewhere to go.

My Answer

So, to directly answer Stock’s question: Is there something I’ve dreamed of doing for a long time but haven’t? Yes, getting my novel published is the next mountain to climb.

Why haven’t I? Well, this dream is still in progress. It’s evolved from writing a novel to publishing one. The journey continues.

Is it better to have dreams that may never come to pass, or to stick with those that can be readily achieved? Both. We need the stars to guide us and the stepping stones to get us there.

What about you? What dreams have you been carrying, and what’s one small step you could take toward them today? The comment section awaits your thoughts.

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This post is part of my “Question of the Week” series, where I explore thought-provoking questions from Gregory Stock’s “The Book of Questions” and share my personal reflections. Join the conversation in the comments!