Odd Were K-pop dream

 Gideon's Dreams Part, Whatever.

In this week's adventure, I was working for a zoo and a group of Komodo dragons escaped. Myself and a group of people dressed like the hunter guy from the first Jurassic Park movie take to the surrounding jungle to get them back. (Yes, the zoo was apparently in the middle of a jungle.)

We take a large river boat that resembles a theme park attraction and come to a meadow that leads to an abandoned city. Busted out, crumbling brick buildings with broken windows as far as the eye can see. And in the distance, running off, are our komodo dragons.

So we gear up with tranq guns and take off on foot to catch them. But they're faster than us and soon lose us. We keep trekking through the abandoned city in search of our quarry where we come upon a building where we realize they've congregated.

Only, they're talking.

When we peak into the building, we realize that the komodo dragons have met up with other komodo dragons. Only now, they've transformed into K Pop stars, and are talking angrily of their oppression at the hands of the zoo keepers. 

One of us bumps into something on the side of the building and they know we're there.

So the group of rebellious were-K Pop stars run around the building and chase after us. 

We run, firing back tranq darts at the angry K Pop stars. K Pop stars with poisonous teeth and claws that can run faster than a normal person.

I get cornered somewhere near the boat and tackled to the ground when I wake up in the still of the night, swearing never to eat whatever I did before bed again...

No one wants your art

 No one cares about your art. No one wants to hear what you have to say. Nobody is waiting for your next work to hit the public…

...Do you still want to do it anyway?

Good.

Because that’s what it was all about in the first place. Before the views, and the likes, and the awards and the money, before any outside influences made you question what you do, you did it because you were drawn to it. Because the medium spoke to you, and you spoke through it. Because it brought you joy and wonder and reminded you that magic was real. 

Because it brings you a sense of completion in an otherwise uncertain and chaotic world. 

And maybe someone, somewhere told you they liked what you did. That it touched them, moved them, helped them, made them feel something. And you smiled. Like you’re smiling right now, remembering it. And maybe nobody told you. No one said how you made them feel, or that they liked what you did. Either because they got busy, or distracted, or had to leave the event. Or maybe they just felt awkward or scared to approach you, because what you do meant a lot to them and they didn’t want to ruin the experience by being brushed aside when they approached you. (Not saying you were going to, but we tend to psyche ourselves out at times when approaching someone we admire.)

Maybe your work reminded them of a lost art of their own. Of something that brought them joy and completion. And maybe after seeing your work, they picked up that pen or that brush or those dance shoes for the first time in years, and flourished them with a renewed smile that cast away layers of insecure frowns.

Maybe it just touched one person. Maybe it just touched me. Maybe it just touched you.

But isn’t that what it’s all about in the first place? Isn’t that what makes it all worth it?

So what if ‘nobody’ cares? It was never about them in the first place. 

Keep making the world a brighter place as only you can. Because I care. And because you care. And because the world would be a little duller without your unique brand of wonderful in it.