No matter what I have faced, I’ve held my dreams close, always bringing me hope. Growing up in Venezuela with several days without power, two meals a day, and the dictatorship killing everyone fighting for a future; dreams became an escape. Every day I would look at a point in the room and for a moment forget my surroundings. I would dream about having a second chance at a bright future, where life wouldn’t be only about surviving. My dreams and imagination worked hand in hand with literature. I would devour book after book, getting hungrier to know lives through pages, but it came to be that reading wasn’t enough, so I started writing. It was another level. Writing helped me navigate my emotions positively. It was my space where I would feel heard. Since then, I wanted to give that feeling back to others. Another dream was secretly born. On July 9th, 2019, one of my wildest dreams came true. My mom and I closed the door of our home, and everything we knew, to start a new life. Leaving Venezuela to come to the U.S. wasn’t easy, since there were a lot of expectations and questions. Would I be able to do this? I asked myself every day, but there was no other option, I was living my dream. I hold my head high and succeed. I excelled in the U.S. educational system, graduated with honors, participated in Georgia’s Governor’s Honor Program and, most importantly, was committed to a college out of state. I did it. All of my dreams came true. However, that dream took a turn. In July of last year, I suffered a spontaneous pneumothorax. A hole in the lung that kept me 18 days at the hospital. After having surgery and being sent home, my whole world became upside down. I wasn’t able to go to that college, the fear of my body failing me again consumed me. I felt like a failure. After all the sacrifices and success, I wasn’t able to hold my head high this time. Life became something that was happening outside my window. It was impossible to reach it. I needed help. Starting therapy saved me. I was able to accept what happened and be able to trust my body again, to start living. I recovered, it wasn’t easy, but I didn't give up. Experiencing once again having a place where I would be heard inspired me to learn more about my psychological diagnosis and to grow my deep interest in psychology. This year I applied for another college, this time in-state. I started to believe in my dreams once again. I started to believe in myself once again. By majoring in psychology, I’ll achieve my dream of gaining knowledge in the field and prepare to later study in a graduate program to become a therapist. In my wildest dreams and my future, I see myself helping and guiding immigrants like me to manage the grief of leaving one’s country, and to guide them to find happiness. I see myself guiding people with traumatic experiences like mine. I see myself guiding international students like I once was to motivate them, to let them know that their dreams will come true too. In my wildest dreams, I’m helping others. In my wildest dreams, my dad is looking from heaven, smiling proudly. In my wildest dreams, I give back to my mom, the strongest person I know. In my wildest dreams, I get to live to the fullest.