You’re Never Too Old to Dream

Do you remember your first dream?  And I don’t mean the first time you remembered a dream that happened as you slept. I mean the first solid, concrete dream that came to you when you were fully awake and present with your thoughts.

I was five years old.  I remember sitting with a bunch of lined paper on the couch in the rec room while my Mom did some hand sewing on a garment she was making.  I took five sheets of lined paper, folded them in half and then carefully cut across the fold, making a total of ten sheets.  Then I carefully cut along the red margin because I thought the holes in the paper would distract from the masterpiece I was about to create.  Lining up all ten sheets, I then snapped a staple in the upper left-hand corner.

“What are you making?” said my mom.

“Just making a storybook.”

She just smiled and went back to her sewing.  Projects like this were nothing new for me. I was always cutting and pasting something together or making something from scraps of whatever I could find, so her seeing ten lined pages stapled together wasn’t a lightbulb moment for either of us.

I took a moment to think about what I was going to call my “Chapter” book because that’s what this was going to be – my first chapter book.  They always tell you when you’re stuck to write about what you know, and while I didn’t know all that much about rabbits at the time, my brothers had a couple as pets and I did know a lot about my family, so an idea was born.

“The Rabbit Family”

I put my pencil down (I’ve always had a thing for pencils) and stared at the words I’d just written.  I was on my way!  I meticulously flipped the first page, making sure I made a neat and tidy line at the staple.

“Chapter One”

And that was the beginning of my life as a writer, and more so I guess, as a storyteller.  By the end of the night, I’d written and fully illustrated my first little book. In the grand scheme of things, the plot didn’t really matter, same old story of rabbits stealing carrots from a farmer, yada yada, and it was apparent that I was never going to be an visual artist, but the process of creating and writing words and formulating a story fascinated me.  A spark was lit, and a dream was born.

I’ve always been a dreamer.  A necessity of the solitude I so much enjoy and crave.  In the silence, my mind is a constant churn of ideas and imagination and dreams.  I’ve often wondered what sets us ‘dreamer types’ apart from the regular population and I think it’s that us dreamers give ourselves the permission to dream.  We make it apart of our lives and a part of who we are. I know I do.

Where along the way did those non-dreamers stop dreaming?  Think back, when did YOU stop believing in your dreams because you know at some point in your life you had them.  Did someone tell you that dreams and dreamers were just a waste of time and that you were better off just falling into place and doing your part in society?  Or more specifically, YOUR dreams?

They were wrong.

Having dreams, even if they seem impossible at the time, are so important, no matter how old you are.  Dreams don’t have to be a thing, they can be a place, a state of mind, a time in space that you someday want to get to. They are the light that guides you.  And I’ll argue that dreams are not material.

You might dream of having a shiny sports car but it’s not really about the car itself, it’s about how driving that car makes you feel inside, the endorphins that release when you get behind the wheel, and the sense of accomplishment you feel when that dream comes true.  It’s about the pride you feel when you look out the window and see that beauty sitting in your lane way.

Dreams can mean and encompass so many different things, ideals and emotions.  They are personal. They are universal.  They are the engine that moves us forward and onward.

Close your eyes.  Take a moment and think back.  What was your first dream?  What do you dream about now? What is that one thing in this very moment that you want to do?  Or that you want to be?  Or the way you want to feel?  And if that dream didn’t come true, what happened?  What derailed?  What made your heart change course?

It’s okay, take your time. Take all day.  Take all week. I’ll wait. It’s that important.

NEVER be afraid to dream.  EVER.  You don’t have to share them with anybody, you just have to have them.  Never let anyone tell you that dreams are futile. Sure, they don’t always work out, and that’s okay, but that’s the beauty of dreaming. If we never pushed ourselves to make them come true, then we’d never push ourselves to do anything, and that leaves a feeling of unworthiness and even shame – that maybe we just aren’t good enough for dreams and we should just leave them up to other people.

If I’d left the dreaming up to other people, I wouldn’t be sitting here now, telling you about the glorious Rabbit Family.  You’d be reading about the “Elephant Family” or the “Skunk Family” or the hilarious adventures of “Sammy Small and the Rocket Ship”.

My dream was never about the book or the story itself, it was about the way my Mom’s face lit up when I handed it to her, and we sat on the couch, me in her lap, reading it aloud.  It’s about the feelings it gives me when I’m writing and the privilege I feel when someone, like you, reads my work or gets even the slightest bit of inspiration or motivation from what I do. Those are just some of the reasons I dream and will continue to dream until the day I die.

What are your reasons?  Find them.  Love them.  Make them happen.  You are never too old to dream.  Find that space in both your head and your heart.  Allow your mind to wander. All the possibilities. You are worth the effort.  Then again, you always were.