thoughts before bed.
i often have to remind myself, this is an ordinary world. the things i dream are dreams for a reason. no matter how many paths i find in dreams, they cannot live in this ordinary world. i have often asked myself ‘why’…. the reasons seem to vary… but they almost always have to do with the difference between hoping for a thing and being willing to make it real.
the things i dream require at least one other person to be willing to build with me. that, of course, is predicated on finding someone who not only has the same dream, but is willing to shift and collaborate to make it real. especially given that no two images come from different minds can ever be precisely the same… for all they may share many similarities.
many times in my life, i have felt great disappointment for thinking i have met someone willing to build with me. business, friendship, romance… the venue varies, but the method doesn’t change. what i have found is that most times, people are so attached to the specific details of their dream that they cannot truly collaborate. the fidelity of their vision aces even the possibility of seeing it become real.
often, i have happily given up aspects and details of my own dream, finding it a worthy giving to have even a partially true version of it breathe and live. but i see now that this doesn’t work, either…. there is always some detail over which all attempts will shatter. why? i do not know. it just happens that way.
once upon a time, i was willing to pull up stakes and move cross-country to try and make a dream come true. in truth, i have done this more than once. never has it actually come to fruition. several times, the other involved in the effort has begun by telling me how brave it was… or how strong i was…. or some other version of ‘i cannot believe you would actually do it’.
i find that statement, in any form, is the death knell of such dreams… the inevitable revelation that someone simply cannot accept or believe that it is possible. even when facing it. what chance, a dream, with such jaded disbelief greeting it?
in this moment, thinking of it, i am pensive. not because it cannot be, but because it cannot be… if that makes sense.
but i will admit, there is a still and quiet corner of myself that refuses to stop believing it is possible. a chapel down a long and shrouded path. within it, a little girl kneels at a shrine called hope and prays. it is, of course, an analogy. but it is also true.
that little girl, she knows nothing of an ordinary world. all she knows is that the only way to make reality is to never refuse to believe it is possible to do so.
i long ago laid mines and barbed wire in perimeter of her vigil there, in that little chapel. it is protected, impenetrable, and, as odd as this may sound… sacred.
every now and then, if you listen closely while reading here… you will hear her, and on occasion, i make my way close enough to lean upon the door and savor the warmth that spills from under it, through it… the single, redeeming thought…. nothing is impossible until we say it is.
not even in an ordinary world.