Forgotten Dreams

So yeah, dreams are important. And I think there are more dreamers today than ever before in the history of anything... but... they're so afraid, so many of them. Afraid to lose all their 'manageable misery.' It's all just so... so... pathetic. Pathetic... and selfish. Are you seriously telling me... that you would deny the world an exquisite painting just because the cardboard firm from down the street is hiring? That you'd stay out of politics because your mates would think you a twat? That the greatest secrets of quantum physics would go forever unearthed... because Dad thinks girls are fit only for babymaking? Does that really sound good enough for you? Really? Maddening! And don't you dare tell me I'm unrealistic. I know a body's chance of sinking their claws into a dream are fairly grim. But... not to try? To settle into the gray doldrums with nary a peep? - Aaron A., Serenity Rose

When we were kids, we dreamed. We wanted to be things, do things when we grew up, even if for some of us the only dream was to be alive and somewhere other than “home”. But, we dreamed. Some of those dreams no longer fit. Now that we’re adults, we have different opinions and desires than when we were kids. But, we dust off the dreams now and again to have our cotton candy. Some of those dreams we’ve accomplished, and we look around at our life and we see this and feel full and satisfied. But there are other dreams, dreams that could complete us, dreams that still have a corner of our hearts, though we scarcely acknowledge them to ourselves much less bring them out into the bright of day. These dreams may not fit our lives as they are now, but they could fit our lives as we wish that they were. Search yourself and see if there are any hidden dreams.

I have always wanted to be a writer. I wrote my first book in kindergarten. It was stapled together for the binding, and I drew the pictures. I wish I still had it. Throughout my life, I’ve gone from poems to short stories to journals to novels back to short stories and so on and so on, but it wasn’t until recently that I acknowledged that writing was a part of me rather than just an expression of creativity like role-playing or painting. Deep in my soul, my dream of writing has always been there, and I’ve dusted it off, and this blog is part of the result. I have not published anything except a blurb in the senior yearbook, but that’s not what’s important. I’m not writing to publish. I’m not writing for other people. I’m writing for me. Even this blog, as much as I love helping others, as much as I know that there are other people who need to hear what I have to say, I write it because I have to say it. Because I write. I will almost assuredly never turn this into a career. But I don’t have to. That’s not part of my dream. My dream is to write, and I do.

Do you have dreams you could take a look at, maybe add just a dab of into your life? Do you love to paint but have nowhere to do it? Why would you need somewhere big? A little paint, a small brush, a piece of 8.5”x11” paper – that’s enough. Do you dream of dancing? Then do it, in your living room, blinds shut or open, people there or not. Do you dream of living in Paris? Learn French. Why? Just because. Get books of paintings by French painters. Read books set in Paris. You can add a little bit of Paris to your life right now as you figure out how to bring your dream into reality.

There are dreams inside you that will never die. Breathe a little more life into them and see how much life they breathe into you.