I love to dream.
Day dream, that is.
It's fun and fearless and freeing.
It allows me to imagine an idealized personal world...
And when I dream...
nothing seems off limits.
There is no room for doubts or worry or missteps.
There is just a flow
and a flourishing contagion of ideas and possibility
as one dream breathes life into another
and so on
and so on
until I am bursting at the seams with all of the wonderment and wonder of this someday land.
And as I revel in the reverie of it all,
I am filled with an irrepressible knowing and excitement that
this. shall. be.
Sharing this vision of my someday land
with my kids...
I am abruptly brought back
to the moment
to the day
as the voice of my eldest calmly declares,
"You know, Mom...someday isn't a day of the week!"
The spell is broken.
The someday vision of my someday land gives way to ironic -- almost begrudging laughter as the meaning behind her words assimilate.
And I know this.
It is all well and good to dream and imagine and conjure...
but without action...
without the contribution of my hands and words and deeds,
the dream remains just that...
lost in the ether
waiting for another soul to make it manifest.
As I gather
my someday dreams
within my mind's eye, once again...
I realize something has changed.
A new respect has emerged as I recognize the power these dreams have to ignite something from nothing.
Slowly and steadily I begin to build
deed by deed, word by word, step by step
through doubt and worry
flowing and floundering and finding my way
toward my someday dreams in my someday land.
For it is within our dreams of these faraway days that we often find the fortitude and inspiration needed to take the first step and then the next.
All that is created must first be imagined, after all.
And that is no small thing.
And so, I chuckle to myself as I recall the words of a friend,
"Someday is my favorite day of the week."
Me too, Karen.
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