I miss dreaming.
Not like the every night close your eyes and drift off to random dream-land dreams. You know the ones you have when you really have to go to the bathroom but there are no doors on ANY of the bathroom stalls and for some reason, everyone is just hanging out in the bathroom. Why dreams? Why must you stress me out so? But I digress.
I miss dreaming. I miss looking outside and thinking “I could do anything today,” and proceed to dream about going on an epic road trip, becoming best friends with the rich and famous, saving a young child in a middle-of-nowhere town in Montana and becoming a hero. One day I could be a pony, and the next I could be a famous Pokemon trainer. The possibilities were all there because I was not afraid to dream them. As I got older and the world became less magical but more responsible, I felt myself dreaming less and just doing what I needed to do to get by. Pay bills, get good grades, eat right, exercise… Daily conversations circled more around complaints and the bad things that encompass the world and less about dreaming, change, and wonder. Everything has just become so much real and fantasy/dreams have become very much fantasy and dreams. The pencil-thin line separating those two realms of my childhood have now turned into a grand canyon of a gap, and there is no bridge between the two.
My dad was a dreamer, and he chased every single one of them… And he failed achieving them. But at least he failed trying to achieve them. Yet that fear of failing, of falling flat on my face and struggling to get back up, scares the crap out of me. It scares me so much that I am afraid of dreaming. I am afraid of latching onto an idea and just taking a leap of faith. I play it safe. I stay in when people invite me out because I am being realistic all the time instead of just enjoying the moment. I do not dream of all the foreign places I could go to because of the price tag that comes with such trips; I seriously start feeling a little stressed out thinking of spending that money even though it is all dream money. It is just a dream, and I won’t dream it because of the possibility of it actually coming true is slim to none. Why? Why do I feel guilty just for dreaming? For aspiring for greatness?
I have no idea. Maybe because I think it is a slap to the face for what I already have? In many ways, I do have a dream life. I am married to the love of my life who makes me smile every day, I am pursuing a career that will help others in achieving their weight loss goals, I own a horse that is my partner and friend… I live a pretty comfortable life and in no way, do I feel like this life is not enough for me… because it totally is. But dreaming should not mean I am cheating on what I do have but instead is a form of creative hoping for the infinite possibilities. Like what would happen if a space ship came crashing down in our apartment right now? What would happen? Would my husband and I have to go on the adventure of a lifetime searching for a mystical part for their ship from a previous ship that had crashed on Earth millions of years ago and is somewhere buried in the sands of Egypt?
The thing about dreaming is that it leaves this feeling of magic around me. Like this world is a magical place with so much wonder (which it totally is!) and I am the star of my own little show. I can stand out because I am a star and there is no limit to how much I can shine. I just need to stop being afraid of dreaming, of trying, of striving.
It is the Holiday season. This is when Magic happens.