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What dreams are made of
...written on 2011-10-08, @ 9:53 p.m.
You know, we had dreams. Such big dreams in such a small world but we became exactly what everyone expected us to be. Sometimes...sometimes, it makes me want to cry that we were all so predictable. Creating castles in the sky with our fingertips, weaving the world in our sleep, we let it all slip by us. We were so very busy dreaming big dreams that we forgot to create big dreams...well, most of us anyway.
Some of ended up exactly where we always wanted or, at least, exactly where everyone always wanted us to be. What does that mean? What does that matter?
When I see those smiles, I wonder if those big dreams ever meant anything at all. Are we even better at living than imagining? Or, when we grow up, do we give up on dreams and learn to love what we have?
I dreamed big dreams-a writer, a traveller, an inspiration, a creator. Educated and brave. Leaving the world in my wake.
Yet, I settled in a cozy house by the kind of space that some people can only imagine. Porcupines, deer, and every manner of wonderful wildlife wonder through my life on a daily basis. The trees frame the street like a painting and tumble rainstorms of seasonal leaves. At night, I curl in against my Prince Charming-tall, dark and handsome-and feel safer and warmer than I ever could have hoped. During the day, I am a creator of knowledge, an inspirer-or, at least, I'm learning to be. I am educated, if not brave. I am standing on my own two feet and travelling the world hand in hand with my Prince. There is no deep ache inside of my bones.
Once I questioned giving up dreams for something that I thought was less. I criticized and turned up my nose at others who thought that their dreams were less than nothing when they found something that I thought was less than worthy of that dreaming. Now I understand. It is not less. It is a better dream than I ever could have created. It is a better world than I ever could have fathomed.
I thought my dreams were too bright and beautiful to ever be real and now I see what I was missing all along. When we forget to dream because we are living it, our inherent sense of wonder returns. Our dreams take hold when we stop looking at how beautiful the world in front of us is.
I remember now.