I turned 30 this week. It's a strange thing to enter a new decade of my life, and one that is neither old nor young. (To older people, I'm still a kiddo; to younger people, simply ancient.) I keep thinking, though, not of being old or young, but of being here, and of being here now. By that I mean that I'm trying to stay present, as we are told we must do. And I do want to stay present and enjoy the life I have here right now. I don't want to wish it away.
But I also keep thinking about dreams.
Dreams that don't steal from your present joy, but rather that add to it. Dreams that don't make you hate the life you have, but rather that help you appreciate it all the more because you just can't wait for what comes next. Dreams that are not fantasies in disguise.
It all came out in this poem I wrote when I was free writing earlier this week. Hope you enjoy it!
Dreams are beautiful, like—
Children screaming with delight in autumn leaves.
Dreams are heavy, like—
Clicking a blue “Apply” button for the tenth time this week.
Dreams are fragile, like—
A horse shielding her foal as they graze on the side of the road.
Dreams are fleeting, like—
The morning chill in the desert.
Dreams are essential, like—
That sharp morning intake of breath that lets you know you’re awake.
I must have been day dreaming as it took me five days to read your posting! Life would have no pizzazz without dreams, no goals either short or long, no spark. I guess without dreams the natural turn would be toward nightmares. Always dream as it is a look towards the horizon and unlimited possibilities.