Chest tight with panic, your eyes snap open as you wake from your dream, sitting bolt upright. Wiping the sweat from your brow, you gradually slow and deepen your breathing. The torment from the dream retreats somewhat, but lingers on.
"What did I miss?" you wonder, rising from bed and pulling on yesterday's clothes. Sleep fades, shoes find feet, and you head out the door, to walk awhile and think.
The sky lightens as dawn approaches, making your way to the river's edge where you've spent many hours reveling in nature and simply being.
Perspective returns in stages.
The creation is exactly what it was meant to be. It is a part of you, and has it's own inherent beauty. Ideally it will bring joy, be of use, or make people think, but that's beyond your control.
It's time to release it to the world, not-knowing how it will be viewed or received. Many may like it, some will probably hate it. The act of creation, though, was a journey in self-expression, from inspiration to manifestation.
Turning to head home, a smile crosses your face once more. Free of the burden you'd carried to the water's edge, your spirit takes flight.