The past two nights I had some intense vivid dreams. I’ve forgotten all about them now but I remembered them clearly when I just woke up.
Whenever I think about dreams, I can hear Elle’s words echoing in my head, ‘I’m a dreamer, I have vivid imagination’ which brings me to the question ‘do I dream enough?’
Of course the dream we’re talking about here is not the dreams you get when you’re sleeping, but about daydreams. Things you think about, things you wish are reality but they aren’t and often they may never be.
I’m one who’s afraid to dream. I think I don’t dream enough. When I read a book or watch a movie, I usually forget the storyline quickly. I was listing books I’ve read on goodreads the other day, about three quarters of them I don’t remember anymore what they’re about. My husband asked me if I’ve watched this movie called ‘Joy Luck Club’, I remembered I’ve watched it multiple times but I honestly have zero idea right now what it was about. Ask me what Lion King is about. I have no idea.
Why am I so afraid to dream? I tried looking back to my past and pinpoint any event that made me afraid to dream but I couldn’t. In fact, as a child, I have big imagination. I remember I have an imaginary boyfriend and I was an imaginary character. It’s a little secret I have with myself. My mom said I talked to myself a lot.
But now, unless I know I can achieve it, I don’t dare to dream. Elle loves her fantasy alpha male boys from books. I don’t, not because I don’t like them, but because I know they are not real so I already build a wall before I get to know them. Had they been a real person, I will
probably love them. I mean, who wouldn’t love a rich, attentive, romantic and hot guy who pampers you and thinks you’re the most precious thing in the world?
I’ve been taught that success starts with a dream. How can I be successful if I don’t dream? My husband, being the workaholic he is, often asked me what my goal in life. I never answered him. Because I have none. Maybe I do have one. I want to be happy. As long as I’m happy, I’m content.
I think maybe that’s why. Dreams are not real. At least not for the moment. When good things I really like and want but I can’t have it because it’s not real, it makes me sad. I don’t like being sad. So why dream?
The day I do dream, I usually know that one day my dream will come true. For example, I dream to work with little children. I would love to work in child care industry but giving up my job right now is not very wise. I’ve been in this career for so long and to start over in a different field is just not financially wise. But I know for sure, that one day, when money is no longer an issue, I can make the career switch.
That’s how I dream. I dream small. Things I can make true. Even when I write fictions, the characters are usually based on people that I know in real life. See, even something that is supposed to be fictional contains some reality. I just don’t have the guts to dream.
My dad is a big dreamer. He always tells me to dream big, it’s the only way to be successful. But I can’t. I just can’t. Sorry, daddy. You’ll just have to be satisfied with an ordinary daughter who makes a living by doing ordinary job. I will never make a big name for myself. But I’m truly happy to be ordinary. That is, if you’re happy for me.