The world is blank – white – as I stand, silently. Everything is empty, silent, and it is as if I’m forced to a standstill, as if my feet are glued to the floor.

Only one other person stands before me – my father. But he’s dressed in scrubs, ready for work.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” he asks.

“…A doctor,” I reply after a long silence. I could not even begin to guess where we are. Am I dreaming?

“No,” my dad says. “What do you really want?”

I don’t want to answer, but the silence kills me. I realize nothing will happen, and I would be stuck here forever if I don’t answer, glued to the floor.

“A… writer,” I mutter, saying my second choice, “but I really want to be a doctor…”

Thousands of bookshelves suddenly appear, sliding into place, and my dad gets one out, saying, “Then?”

“Well…” is all I can say.

“There is nothing wrong with being a writer.” Suddenly, many people appear, taking books and looking through them. “As long as it’s something you want.”


“You can choose… or do both. Just do what you want.”

With that, I woke up.

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