Dream Storage

Stop me if I start getting nauseating...

I have two sets of dreams, and due to this fact alone, you can consider me very accomplished. For some people- many people- never have a dream at all, or if they do, it's only a half dream. You know, one of those dreams that was really more just a happy thought or a pleasant supposition, but lacked any of the true passion, the obsession, that must accompany a dream. In fact some people throw the term about with disturbing casualty; i.e. "It has always been my dream to re-paint this kitchen," or "I dream of one day living in a world where we all live in chocolate houses and take chocolate baths and daily chocolate consumption is mandated by the government." You see, neither of these so-called "dreams" fit into the category of true dreams. The first, because it is far too insignificant to be considered a real, tried and true, heart-wrenching, mind-consuming dream. The second because it's just ridiculous and impossible.

Not like my dreams.

Not only are my dreams passionate, they are also significant and feasible. (I don't say feasible to be a snob, just to explain that they aren't totally ludicrous, you know, like a chocolate world. They are actually possibilities, whether likely or not.)

Anyway, I've got these two sets of dreams, real dreams like I said. They each even keep physical residence in my bedroom, if you can believe it. One set of dreams resides in a box- a beautiful box. Just the right size, about the size of a shoe box. It's embroidered with rose-colored flowers and tied up with sage-green ribbon and I must say, in all it's floral elegance and loveliness, it makes a very fitting abode for the first set of dreams.

The second set of dreams has a very different home. You would find the second set of dreams shoved in a manila folder, amidst a hodgepodge of various other things- paintings I did as a child, a torn-out page of a coloring-book-Cowboy and a stack of miscellaneous poetry and essays. Don't let this reckless treatment make you think the second set of dreams is any less dear to me than the first. Somehow, it just makes sense, for the dreams to be packed away in such different ways.

But you know what the truth is? I don't want all these dreams. Maybe you thought I was lucky, maybe you envied me at first. Maybe you're sitting around at home, just wishing you had so much as one dream to follow and then here comes little old me, with what sometimes feels like a thousand different dreams, too many, so many that they're suffocating me!

So here's the deal.

You can have my dreams. Take them for yourself. For I have a very nagging fear that when you've got as many different dreams as me, rather than go out and grab any of them, it's far more likely that you'll just fail them all.

The Gravity of Life (A Letter)

Dear Blogosphere,

To be honest, Life has been taking some serious swings at me lately and I have been having trouble remaining standing.

It's hard to write about it without getting too explicit, and details are a thing I'm going to have to avoid using.

The gist is that I'm at that crossroads again. You know, the lovely metaphorical Fork in the Road of Life. Oh my friends, it is such a long, winding road and it's getting dark outside now, night is falling and I just can't see my way. I know both stretches have their ups and downs, their trials and tribulations as well as their joys and rewards. They both contain rocky stretches, mountains to climb, forests to fend through and rivers to wade, as well as meadows to lie in, sunsets to watch and fields to frolic through...

Are you feeling nauseous yet? (I am.)

I guess I thought I had chosen a path. I was pretty sure this time. This time I wasn't backing down. This time I wasn't changing my mind.

But life had other plans in store for me. Or maybe it was God who did.

Basically there's nothing like feeling completely physically weakened and incapable to make you question everything. There's nothing like feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the gravity of life and death, by the inescapable tragedy and horror that befalls us, the living, every single day.

Suddenly, life became so frightening, so bleak and desolate. It's happened to me once or twice before, the fear, the emptiness, the feeling like I don't want to do anything or go anywhere ever again, I just want to lie in my bed, because what's the point. The feeling that nothing matters. It's terrible. I think it's something like depression.

The good thing about this, whatever it is, is that it rarely lasts more than a week or two. I'm not constantly plagued by it, to the point where I need to be medicated, not yet or anything. But when it does happen, nothing matters. People don't matter. I stop communicating. I stop wanting to do anything at all. I don't want to get out of bed. I don't feel that I have any reason. There is nothing so bad as this. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

Here I am again though, feeling relatively ok, although still a hint of medical stuff going on, but hopefully it will all be okay.

But I didn't come out of this episode unscathed folks. It taught me something, it ingrained something into my brain.

Life sucks. Life has no guarantees. Life, whether you make it to the age of ten or the age of seventy-five, is terribly, terribly brief. And you could get to live it out to the full with a family who loves you, friends who stick by your side. Or you could lose it as a young teenager, in a car accident that began and ended in the blink of eye. Just like your life.

But no matter what happens, your life is going to end. You are going to have to face the end, the unavoidable truth of death.

We are all going to die and well, that's scary. What that says to me, what all the pain and fear and uncertainty of life says to me, is that there has to be something more. Specifically, it tells me that there has to be a God, and there has to be a purpose. Otherwise, what would be the point of any of it?

No, there has to be more. There has to be hope. There has to be Someone who cares, Someone who looks out for us and makes it all worth living.

That answer is easy for me to find. I've believed in God as long as I can remember. And I know He is truth.

But that doesn't mean it's not complicated.