Dreams That Get Away
Dreams That Get Away
On the dreams of our younger and older selves.
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Dear Bolu,
You were but a child when you first rode into this city in the back of a cramped Volkswagen. It was at night—a night without shadows, lit gloriously by an endless queue of lamps. These still lamps weren’t suspended, but they made a weak attempt to touch the sky. They were choreographed to lead your homecoming procession, and they did so with bowed heads and the straightest gait. This city held a promise, and you could certainly feel it. It was a city of dreams. It was a city for dreamers. And perhaps you would realise yours someday.
Although the cityscape was beautiful, its people seemed like an oddity. They were slouched men with tired eyes and restive women with sullen faces. It was either a robotic monologue or a discordant exchange when they spoke. When they moved, they were one single body. They wore the same clothes and carried the same bags. Their faces had different colours, but they were all dark. They seemed to be without being. They seemed to be dancing for an answer that never came and singing for an ending that never began.
You found it hard to reconcile these two—a city with so many lights and a people that seemed singular and monolithic. It was still a city of dreamers, just not in the way you’d imagined it. Here, everyone had the same dream, as that was the only way to survive. And every day, people exchanged their many beautiful dreams just for this one dream that kept them alive. The more dreams the city took the brighter its lights and the further they reached for the sky. It was a city of dreamers that never slept. And you hoped you’d be able to hold on to your precious dreams—those million little lights that shine on in your heart. You’d hoped, and you’d fought, but like the many who have come before you, you lost. Two decades later, the city lights shine brighter than they’ve ever been, and they attract even more dreamers to its beautiful gates. On the other hand, you have begun dancing for answers and singing for an end. You’re alive, but you’re not yourself anymore.
Oh well.
I wonder a bit about dreams; are some purer than others? When we were younger, there was a great deal and range of things we wanted to be; astronauts and zookeepers, wrestlers and ninjas, actors and runway models, footballers and musicians. We knew little of what it took to become these types of people, so we dreamt we could be any of these things. As we grew up, however, we gave up on some of these dreams, and new ones sprang up in their stead. I wonder whether these new dreams are polluted, corrupt, and impure somehow.
Our older dreams—the ones we had when we were younger—were based solely on our desire to be certain people doing certain things. Those things and people appealed to us, and that was all it took to want a future where we were those people. These older dreams are pure in a sense because they were based solely on our desires. There was no other motivation to have that dream than our desire to be those people. On the other hand, our younger dreams—the dreams we have when we get older—aren’t based solely on our desires, no. We take several things such as economic value, time, skill, knowledge, physique etc., into account while dreaming. In Tim Ferriss’ discussion with Jim Collins (both intelligent guys), the latter encourages us to do things at the intersection of what we are suited for and what’s profitable. Of course, that’s good advice. But it seems like doing so would involve us bending our dreams to our realities. And that makes the dreams less pure.
“Oh, Alecksandher, you’re not so good at math, but your literary skills are top-tier. Consider being an Author instead of an Astronaut”. “Jaycorb, the truth is that your muscles aren’t the strongest, and even with training and supplements, they will still remain fragile. Why not go for a career in Public Speaking rather than one in Wrestling?” “Vanessir, you have great people skills, but your football skills aren’t good at all. Why not go into media and give up on football?” Sometimes people say these things to us, and other times we tell them to ourselves. We know they’re truths. Our heights may make us less competitive at swimming and more suited to the discus throw. Our voice may be less suitable for singing blues and just perfect for rap. Of course, we can train and get better at certain things, but we more easily gravitate to something we’re good at and suited for. And this often requires us to leave some of our older dreams behind.
It can’t be helped, of course. The better we know ourselves, and the more we open our eyes, the more susceptible our dreams are to changing. Does this make some dreams less pure than others? Maybe it does, but they’re still our dreams, and I suppose that’s the most important thing. Some dreams will get away from us for whatever reason, but we should always make sure that our dreams are ours. Whether they are motivated by certain factors or just plain, unblemished desire to be certain things, make sure they are yours. Make sure your dreams are yours, dear friend.
Fin.
*Cover image by Ali Karimiboroujeni on Unsplash
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- Wolemercy