“Do you ever dream, my friend?” Jarlaxle asked.

“Everyone dreams,” Entreri replied. “Or so I am told. I expect that I do, though I hardly care to remember them.”

“Not night dreams, the drow explained. “Everyone dreams, indeed, at night. Even the elves in our Reverie find dream states and visions. But there are two types of dreamers, my friend, those who dream at night and those we dream in the day.”

He had Entreri’s attention.

“Those night-dreamers,” Jarlaxle went on, “they do not overly concern me because there is nowhere for them to rise. But those who dream by day . . . those, my friend, are the troublesome ones.”

“Could Jarlaxle not consider himself among that lot?”

“Would I hold any credibility at all if I did not admit my troublesome nature?”

“Not with me.”

“There you have it then,” said the drow.

He paused and looked to the west, and Entreri did to, watching the sun slip lower.

“I know another secret about daydreamers,” Jarlaxle said at length.

“Pay tell,” came the assassin’s less-than-enthusiastic reply.

“Daydreamers alone are truly alive,” Jarlaxle explained. He looked back at Entreri, who matched his stare. “For daydreamers alone find perspective in existence and seek ways to rise above the course of simple survival.”

Promise of the Witch King – R. A. Salvatore


—–

Am I plain lazy? Do I have low ambitions? Am I easily contented? Am I guilty of ignorance? Am I drowning in the sea of mediocrity? Am I losing out in the face of rising competition and limited opportunities?

Do I care? Do I have to? Am I tempted by carrots from the people who want my “help”? What are the things I have to give up to get “there”? How much is enough? Is helping them a something constructive afterall? Or is it hindering me from living a “full” life? Do I know what a fulfilling life is?

Have  I have no dream? Do I just need to find some motivation? Would I rather lead, than be led? Is any other inspiration necessary? In the end, what am I driven by?

Am I just plain lazy? -_-