You know exactly who you are.
Dreams are funny. They can make you believe that you’ll never find the peace of mind and tranquility of heart that you and everyone else around you have been searching for your and their whole life; they can give you destinations of the soul to work toward traveling to and sometimes, they can even inspire you to bring your visions to reality. A question was recently posed to me (and others) that made me stop what I was doing and become excited to hear what my answer would be. It was then that I realized that I haven’t been truly excited for anything my life has offered me in quite a long time. And even when that excitement has gripped me, it was inevitably and immediately followed by this overwhelming doubt and skepticism (because how often does a nice juicy ‘happy’ fall into your metaphorical lap in this world?)
That shit never happens. I’m sorry. It just doesn’t.
The truth was, as I was realizing, that I didn’t know how to answer that question. I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t know how I would react if I gave the wrong answer, as if for some reason this forum for socialites and facade mastery was the end all and be all of decrees. Like my answer would somehow solidify my fate and render me helpless from changing it. The question simply asked what my dreams were.
The question simply asked what my dreams were, and I couldn’t answer it.
I couldn’t tell you what my dreams were if you had held a gun to my head, because I’ve lost myself in this world of worlds.
How many of you out there right now can name a time when you felt yourself slipping away from your own mental grasp simply because you didn’t know how to answer a question or make a decision? Oh…No? Never? How about when you try to decide what you want to do with your life? Who you want to date? Or better yet on a smaller scale, how you want to spend the evening or even what movie to see?
WHAT DO YOU WANT TO EAT FOR DINNER!?
See? Told you. It happens – we have issues with choosing and making decisions. This generation alone has that problem on such a high level.
We have such a broad access to such a variety of options now that we cannot for the life of us put our feet down, make a decision and be happy with it. Why? Well.. I mean, look at your phone. What were the last 3 apps you used? Facebook, Instagram and Snapchat? Guess why – it’s because we’re preoccupied with what could be, with what ‘they’ have and with what we don’t. That’s why we can’t nail down our dreams. We’re too busy trying to pick and choose the best parts of everyone else’s dreams to make our own unique fantasies look like the special sauce of the Gods. And we’re being desensitized. I mean, did you see the Bud Light commercial during the Super Bowl? Were you not that impressed? Me neither. I would have been 10 years ago, that’s for sure. That’s the problem though, we’re way too caught up with EPIC and BEST and blah blah blah. And I, friends, am amongst the guilty. I am part of the problem. I covet. You do too.
Oh, wait.. you don’t? Really? Really?
Come on. Yes you do.
So with all of these thoughts now pinballing through my head, I sat down. I thought. Hard. About who I am, about what I truly love, about what would make me happy. I thought about pure dream. My pure dream. This is what I came up with.
When I close my eyes and dream about happiness, it takes a while for me to shut the book on the happiness that I’m supposed to want, turn down the radio that is our society and just listen to myself. It’s hard to do, I promise. If you’re good at it already, then write a book, because we need help.
In any case, I dream of Paradise. Now, my Paradise and yours may be different, but Paradise is the place you see when your whole being syncs up and you feel your body, your mind and your spirit whirring harmonically along, propelling you through this blip of a life. At the moment that you find yourself floating, you’re there. For me, it looks something like this.
That… is incredible. There is no Facebook there. Hell, there is no wireless there. There is nothing. There is community, there is dancing, there is incredible food and there is something we have very little of here, and that’s satisfaction. There is beauty in simplicity, people. There is absolutely a stunning, breathless beauty in that which we push away. This part of my dream, the “where”, is this small village on the stony shores of a distant peninsula far, far away. No, I won’t tell you where. You’ll google it and pintrest it into your own quilt-stitched dreams and the the luster is gone. The mystery is gone. Mystery keeps us going. Mystery is adventure. It’s wild, it’s free, it’s love and it’s unbridled and incredible. The unknown – the unknown is what makes us smile. The chance that somehow, someway, things will be amazing. This is my mystery dream location.
‘Okay,’ you say, ‘then what would you do?’
What would I do? Whatever I wanted. I would work for weeks on end in a shop by the bay to buy a small boat with an outboard and some fishing gear. I would use a PAPER map to chart oceanic patterns and find breaks where I could surf my days away. I would spend my nights after work watching VHS tapes that taught me to dance like the Devil and remind me of what I was chasing. I would send a rose for every day of the week to the prettiest girl in the village and sing sweet whispers of what love could transpire under the heavy white moons and translucent blue waves from the cobble roads under her window while the town slept into the peace of night. I would take time for myself – leave everything at my villa, boat off with a few boards, few boardshorts and some water and just let myself melt into the canvas of the aquamarine for as long as I felt like it, riding the rhythm and melody of the ocean. Days would pass, nights would soothe and the sun and moon would dance their endless hopeless waltz together, song after song, cycle after cycle, until the band stopped playing.
I would come back from my excursions and wash the salt from my hair, the sea from my face and the burn from my skin. A twilight I would stroll through the town and sit myself down somewhere they were serving the bounty of the waves. I would wait there with my favorite wine, my favorite food and my favorite book, and take in the sights, sounds and smells of the life around me until the sun sank slowly down over the water and the lights popped on one by one, marking the seconds passed until the festivities of the night began. There would be dancing, and music played by the townspeople, and an improvised floor of sand and barrels. Children would run in circles and old couples would hold each other’s hands as they watched the people who’d grown up around them celebrate life well into the wee hours of the morning. I would wait until the last dance, the slow romance of the night still wrapping those of us left on the beach in a gossamer silken thread of fantasy, and I would see her. The girl I waited for, and sang to, and sent roses to. And I would ask for her hand for just one dance. She would recognize me from my serenades, smile and privilege me with 5 minutes of sheer bliss, as we held each other close and moved slowly, sweetly with the music of the waves and the troubadours. Then, when all was done, we would share one long, lingering, perfect kiss under the cover of the sky and retire to the villa, watching the waves caress the shores until the sun yawned its’ slow yawn to beckon the new day’s wake.
And I would go on like this, day after day, month by month, year to year, until my body withered. Until my mind no longer wanted to enjoy the sweetness of falling down the endless chords of life’s unending song. I want my last breath to come on the wings of a sea breeze angel, my last memory of warmth and soft music over rolling hills of stone and sand, and the last thing I see to be the eyes of the stars as they accept me into their own, my spirit rising up into the dark as my body sinks into the churning waters from whence we all came.
That sounds like a dream to me. That sounds like my dream.