We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers
And sitting by desolate streams;—
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.

It’s easy to lose your capacity for dreaming in this world.

Everything about our lives, from the way our jobs are structured, to the way tradition dictates how relationships should work, to how we pigeonhole our children in the public school system is geared toward telling us to put down our fanciful, our fantasy, our dreamability. Idealism tends to be frowned upon as “flaky” at best, and harmful to our peers at worst.

And, in some cases it is. Sometimes we fall too much into the pretty delusion and fail to take into account the very real people, the very tangible beauty that surrounds us in our daily lives.

With wonderful deathless ditties,
we build up the world’s great cities.
And out of a fabulous story,
we fashion an empire’s glory…

But I’m coming to see that stopping all dreaming is akin to stopping all joy. It’s like cutting off our own source of internal power that makes us who we are. That makes us truly human.

In trying to foster and build something meaningful and lasting, I find myself getting caught up in the societal mores of letting go of all dreams. “Grow up!” they say. “Stop being unrealistic, you’ll hurt yourself!” And it’s painful. I never thought that trying to focus on being Pragmatic and addressing life in such a concrete manner could be, but it is and it hurts.

And as I ruminate on this way of living, I see incredible similarity to my experience of my rainbow pregnancy after losing Michael. Letting go of our capacity for hopefulness and the beautiful dream of happy futures can not be better illustrated than in the Hell of the nine months I spent living in fear of another late-term loss. It’s brutal. And I find myself asking, to what end?

I think everyone has their own reasons. While my story turned out just as good — and in many ways, better! — as I secretly hoped (even for all the speed bumps and road blocks!), I look around and see so many others for whom letting go of that spark hasn’t given a pretty end.

So my notes for myself Today are thus:

I am not a pragmatist.

I am not a realist.

I AM a Dreamer.

I AM a Singer of songs, a Teller of tales.

I AM a Believer in beauty and truth and goodness and Love.

And I’m going to fan the fire to see it burn. 🙂

* * *

(Poetry bits by Arthur O’Shaughnessy)

One thought on “The Dreamers of Dreams

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