Dreaming Hours

There are certain times of the day that are meant for dreaming. Late at night is one of those times. That's when the world sleeps and your body is able to settle and your mind is allowed to drift. That's when all the thoughts that you are afraid to acknowledge at work or school or with friends comes drifting out and your finally able to decipher them.

Another time is right at daybreak, before noise pollutes the world and the air is still fresh and slightly chilled. This is when the sky is a ribbon of orange and blue and red and eyes are just beginning to open.

Those are my favorite times. It's when I feel most like myself. There's no one to speak to yet, no smiles to give or words to exchange or errands to run. Those times are simply for me. And I bask in the selfishness it provides me.  Maybe that's why I find it so hard to sleep. I'm waiting for that moment at night to finally cast off my shell and stretch and breathe. I don't want to miss it, so I forego sleep and pay the price in the morning as a groggily head to work.

Sometimes I wish things weren't so mundane. Sometimes I wish it wasn't always the monotonous rhythm of waking up, working, going home, sleeping and repeat. But There's stability in those actions that I crave because stability is safety in my eyes. Still, there are times I wonder what it would be like to get up every morning and experience something new. I new city, a new neighborhood, a new food. Something that wakes up the mind from the dull routine. Something that opens the eyes.

I often think of about what it would feel like to fall asleep in my home and wake up in a room situated in the Caribbean or the Greek Islands or something so unlike the things I'm used to. I would watch the sun rise and wake up this strange part of the world. I would eat foods that are nothing like the foods I eat at home. I would listen to the language and feel giddy from all the culture surrounding me.

I spend a lot of my dreaming hours thinking those thoughts about traveling and seeing the world. I think that's a sign that my mind and body craves something different, something that can only be found with a plane ticket and the name of a different country on it. But mainly I think about the things I would see, the images that will write itself into my mind. The stories I'd create.

And then I look at the time and realize that I need to get some sleep. And with my eyes closed I'd dream of things I barely remember in the morning.

Night.

Night holds me still, like a mother whose arms reach all they way to the sky, to the stars and beyond. Its lullaby is a cascade of silence, broken by the rippling of sheets or the rustle of branches. My thoughts are frantic, harried and loud from the chaos of the morning. They come to me in sparks, igniting and receding. Igniting and receding. But the night is a mother who has long since figured out the ways of her child, and she soothes me as my thoughts dim and I drift away....

The Fall

I often daydream about living a different life. Not in a "woe is me" kinda way, but more in a "hmmm what if" kinda way. I would watch a music video or see a play (on or off broadway) or a really good movie and wonder how it would be to live that life. In fact, as a child I would listen to my favorite songs and close my eyes, imagining the kind of music video I would put together for it. I still do that actually. I guess it's because it's fun for me to wonder and imagine. That's something that never left me, even as I've become an adult. 

I think about the people who make it on broadway, or the ones who are directing those music videos or acting on screen and I try to imagine how they got there. Hard work? Sacrifice? Chance? Luck? How did those who are able to create, whether it be a riveting character or beautiful crafted visual style, rise up to the level they are now. I feel like the process is like a roller coaster going up, up, up. You climb and you slip and you climb again and don't stop until you reach the pinnacle. I also think about the fall. How fast it came for some celebrities and well-known icons. It's slippery up there at the top. 

I think that why you must always keep climbing. Or find the plateau. It's the only way to avoid the fall. 

Then my mind wandered to the ones who can't seem to make it. The ones in which the bottom is all they've ever known. I thought about the struggle and despair of it all, having a desire but unable to see it through. It's heartbreaking. But even then, the dream is too powerful to give up on. It fuels them. They keep trying to climb up. 

I'd like to be able to be a climber. Reaching upward until I've found my peak. Balancing there and creating that plateau. But there's always struggle and that causes so many slips and trips that I often wonder if I will ever get up there. But I firmly believe in the determined spirit. I believe in the people that never give up. They are beacons, those dreamers. I want to shine like they do. Even when times get dark, I want to shine. 

Openings

I've been having dreams lately about door and windows and prison bars slammed shut. And in each dream I'm on the inside, reaching through those prison bars are closing the doors myself. In my dreams there was always a stranger on the other side, seeking to come in or, in the case of the prison, turning their back away from my touch. Those people were foreign yet familiar, as if I'm seeing my own reflection at the bottom of some lake and mistaking that other self as the enemy. I'm either pulling back or diving in. Existing or drowning. In the dreams, neither choice seems especially tempting. 

I've been playing a really innovative video game that continuously refers to a "time of miracles" in reference to a change that happens on the cusp of the journey. Every time I read that line I smile and wonder if my own journey will subsequently lead to a "time of miracles". If so, what would that miracle be? I feel as if it has to do with my dreams of many different kinds of openings closed shut before me and of my reaching out or pulling back. Both actions I commit to hestitantly. 

I'm dream walking. Dream waking. I'm searching for my time of miracles. Before me is a door, a window, a prison cell. I am trapped behind each one, hiding or seeking my other self on the other side. I both scared and desperate. My hand reaches out; pulls back. My reflection comes towards me or turns her back to me. Fear blooms within my heart. Loneliness spreads along my palms, singing my lifelines like the infinite trails of stars. 

And then I wake up. 

Doubt

For a moment I almost felt sorry for myself. As always, a thought kept bubbling up in my head, taking annoying dense shape inside my skull. This time it whispered, "what are you doing with your life?" Apparently existing was not a good enough answer. The question surged and expanded, its brittle accusation forming a stress headache that pushed against my skull as if I am the one that had trapped it there. I could only groan and push through the day. But by the end of it I felt exhausted and more than a little irritated. I was angry without really knowing why.

At home, in the darkness of my own room, I tried to wrap myself with positive affirmations. "You can do it." "Keep working towards your dreams." "Don't let doubt stop you." It almost worked. But I still felt pretty useless. What was I doing with my life? Where was I going? The uncertainty of the future loomed before me and I realized how slender my path was, and how easily I could step off of it. Suddenly it felt like every decision I made was just another step farther away from my goals. Was I doing all that I could do? I had to do more. I had to write more and soon or else I'd never finish. I'd just fail at the one thing I love. And so on and so forth. I had almost sank into a cycle of despair.

But then another thought struck me. What are you doing right?

I hadn't really ever dwelled on what I was doing right in my life. Most of the time I was too focused on all I've done wrong. I started to make a list in my head. I was aware of how much further I had to go, but I was also surprised at how much I was dedicating to my passions. I wasn't just letting the days go by, I was setting aside time to focus on making my dream into a reality. I had concrete examples that I could refer to. I felt...proud of myself.  In the dark I counted off my goals, and felt hopeful. There would always be worries that make their way into my thoughts, but everyday I'm trying to better myself. I can't be bothered with doubts. I'm too busy working to make my dreams a reality.

I realize that were hope exists, doubt has no room to follow.

Nothing's Easy (But is it Worth it?)

Ok, so if you're like me, you're someone in your mid twenties to early thirties who realizes that your dreams may not fit that standard mold of success. You don't want to be a doctor or lawyer, but you still want your life's meaning to help change the world. 

It's getting started that's the tricky part. 

Or perhaps you've already started but you feel stuck in an endless cycle of projects that don't seem to be taking you as close to your goals as you may want. 

And then there are your circle of friends, whose successes leave you feeling proud and envious at the same time. Meanwhile you can count your accomplishments on one hand. 

Or perhaps one finger. 

So you're discouraged. Your friends have all taken a different path and many of them has found success and you don't feel you can talk to them about the road you chose to go down because, how could they possibly understand? You desire a role model, a successful face that has been where you are before but has somehow made themselves into something much greater. You desire some clear cut instruction manual telling you that feelings of uncertainty and panic when chasing your dreams are normal. You desire some kind of validation. Because right now, at this particular moment, you don't know if continuing on is worth it. 

But the world is ominously silent. 

I think this is the part where people tend to give up; when they're casting their fears to the universe, pleading for a sign but getting only silence in return. The hopelessness, the loneliness can be overwhelming. But you're reading the signs wrong. 

"I shall assume that your silence gives consent" is what the famous philosopher Plato once said. He couldn't be more right. Sometimes silence is the world acknowledging that you're doing it right. You don't need fireworks and marching bands to tell you that your path is a worthy one. You only need to feel the surety in your heart to know that this is what you were meant to do. This is what you were meant to be. 

Now here's the hard part. Being consistent. Waking up every morning still living in your parent's house or that tiny little apartment on crappy avenue and motivating yourself to take that one step today that will bring you closer to your life's dream. Juggling work and school or stresses from your home and personal life to sit down at 2am in the morning to work on your passion. Brushing aside the worried proclamations of friends and family who wish you had chosen a more...lucrative/safe path to continue to follow your dream. It will not be easy. But whenever you feel like giving up and your prayers are going unanswered remember Plato's quote. Close your eyes and ask the question inwardly, "is this worth it?" And be amazed at how your heart responds. There lies the truth. 

Affirmation: You are Limitless

This journey towards making my dreams a reality has only one true enemy. And that is me. 

No matter how many people speak negatively of my desires or fill my head with doubtful words, ultimately I am the one who makes the final decision. I am the one who either brushes past the stings or fall to its poison. There is a choice in the matter. I am the one who chooses. This power is mine and mine alone. 

So why do I bother with doubt in the first place? I mean, ultimately I am the master of my own destiny right? I can walk my own path, so why the struggle? It's because I put myself and the dreams that motivate me into a tiny box. I give myself walls and regulate their distance. I allow myself to go only so far before I reach the barrier and when I do, I believe only one thing, that I can go no further. I close myself up to the possibility of success. I am the one who rations the space that I feel I deserve and like a caged bird, I mourn for my freedom. But it is all my doing. I am the one trapping myself. I am the prisoner and the prison itself.

But dreams are boundless. 

They stir the synapses of my brain and push outward, forcing me to see its possibly through space and time. I begin to imagine a future where my dreams are realized. Already they have tapped into a realm I cannot go. My dreams have no box to shut itself into. It has no prisons to mourn in. I could not cast a power into a man-made space and force it to stay. It will reach higher than the walls I build each and every time. 

I think about this and begin to understand something else. If I am able to create an idea so powerful that no prison can hold it, what does that make me? Surely not a person who will let one obstacle prevent me from actualizing the dreams I birth into the world? I create my own blockades, I design my own prison walls and for this reason I understand that without those barriers I would be limitless. I would be able to shatter any obstacles of the world because I've already destroyed them in my mind. 

Affirmation: You are the Dreamweaver.

I am a dreamer. I've always been this way. I remember in elementary school my teacher would write on my report card, "a bright student but spends a lot of time daydreaming". This was not a compliment. I found myself feeling embarrassed that she had noticed me in one of my reveries. They were intensely private things, not something you should be observing and I felt slightly violated that she not only saw me, but had the nerve to tell my parents about it.

They were not happy.

So I learned to keep my daydreaming under wraps. I'd focus on my book or on my pencil, faking a look of concentration too deep to be interrupted. Meanwhile my mind was miles and miles ahead of me, projecting a version of me that was cooler than the reality. This version of me saved the world and everyone wanted to be my friend. I'd snap back into focus when the teacher called my name, or if I felt her walking near. She never caught on. I understood that this was the way it had to be.

I learned to hide my dreams from others. They became secret things that only I knew about. I guarded them fiercely. I did this because they were insanely important to me. I did this because I was incredibly fragile. All it took was one word of displeasure and suddenly shame and guilt would flood through me. I didn't want to feel that way towards things that made me feel so good about myself. They were the only things I had.

I'd reserve the really big dreams for night. I'd fantasize about being this incredible heroine, unaware of my own power until I was put into a situation that forced me to act. Once the situation arose I'd bravely stand up and the people who I would save would look at me, some in confusion, others in awe as I faced whatever monster I had dreamed up that night. The monster would never be aware of my power. The monster would always laugh at insignificant me as I walked towards it, the wind blowing my clothes and hair (wind was central to my daydreams. What better way for a child to convey power?). It would always say, You child? You have come to face me? and I would respond with this power so blinding that it would catch the monster unaware. The people would suddenly understand that I was not some stupid little thing. I was important. I was worth something. And I'd end these dreams and slip into a sleep that only peaceful imaginings can bring.

It's taken me years to realize that all I wanted at those moments in my life was to feel like I mattered. My fantasies gave me something reality did not. It gave me a way to show that I had something to offer the world, that I was important. The monsters were not monsters at all, they were the embodiment off all the things in my life that made me feel small, made me feel insignificant and unimportant. I wanted to prove them wrong. And I did. In my daydreams, I always did.

Now as an adult I remember those fantasies and smile. I'd like to think that I'm equipped with a better understanding of who I am and the strength I possess. I've come to realize that as a child I was able to weave feelings of importance into my daily life, even if they were only met out in my imagination. Those daydreams were enough to fuel me for another day. They were the batteries in which I charged myself from, allowing me to withstand the bullies and the loneliness and the feelings of not quite fitting in. I was a weaver of positive dreams. I was able to make another me, another world where I was not the outcast. It's a power I still hold on to today. It helped me to survive.

To those of you who are perpetual dreamers who feel as if they will amount to nothing, or get you nowhere, I want to tell you this: there is great power in the dreams we cast. Don't take them for granted. Don't underestimate them. They came from you, a manifestation of your desires. Create them, build them. Guard them and let them grow. They are yours, and they are worthy. You are worthy.

The Nameless Thing.

My dreams are faceless, soundless things. They hold no weight, choosing instead to settle themselves within the curve of my collarbone or the stoop of my (less than perfect) posture. I can feel them radiating their warmth and encouragement. And sometimes when trigger words pop into my everyday life, I could feel my dreams shudder, as if suddenly awakened by a force too great to name.

I want to name it "hope" but I'm afraid.

So it remains this nameless thing, causing my dreams to tremble and shine and move me in the way only dreams could. And I could feel their energy in the pit of my stomach, where my fear resides, bubbling and ready to overflow. I could feel them in my heart, where this nameless thing unfurls momentarily and leaves me breathless. It's a beautiful terrifying moment.

Some part of me, that believes in the universe trying to communicate and set us confused humans on the right path, believes that these triggers are the universe's way of saying, "Go on, this is yours! Do it! Don't be afraid!" And for a split second, resolve burns within me and I feel light-headed with possibility. But then there's another part. A quieter part. A deeper part, that whispers, "You'll only fail. You'll always fail. Don't even bother. What's the point?" And just like that, the resolve crumbles inside me. I feel angry at myself. I'm ashamed of my cowardice. I want to scream back at that quiet part of me that always makes me feel so small. I want to fight those words that always makes me hesitate.

But I don't.

Instead, I move through the world with my weightless dreams clinging to me as if they are all that's left in my life. And when a trigger word pops back into my existence, I savor that beautiful moment when I feel my dreams shake and shimmer. I smile at that familiar, nameless feeling opening in my heart and I allow myself a brief moment to consider that the maybe the universe really is showing me the way. It hasn't given up on me. It wants me to be brave and take a chance. One day I'll shake off the whispers that hold me back and I'm gonna answer the universe's call.

Falling Dreams

The dreams that scare me the most are the dreams in which I fall.

Nothing makes sense until that moment. Everything is a blur. And then I find myself walking, or running from or towards a destinations that still not clear and I find myself tumbling into darkness.

I always feel the impact. It shakes my heart.

Sometimes I'd find myself on ivy covered stairs. Their beautiful stone, like something you'd find in the a distant castle garden. There's a fairy tale hidden in the many places. I think in those dreams my fall is the most graceful. But the impact shudders me to the core.

When I wake in the darkness, clutching myself for support I always wonder how it is that the soul can crash harder than the body?