Dream a little dream

by Lorin Michel Monday, June 12, 2017 10:08 PM

I have always tried to live by the dream. By that I mean I believe, strongly, that dreams can lead to great success, extraordinary happiness, and yes – I realize – intense disappointment. But I believe that dreaming of better things, newer things, more fun things; of adventure and love; of possibility is what it means to truly be alive.

I dreamed, long ago, of living in the west and I have for more than 30 years. A dream come true. I dreamed of a marriage that was a true partnership, filled with laughter and fun, of sharing the same goals and enjoying the same things, and I have that with my favorite husband. I dreamed of having a son, and I have an amazing one. I dreamed of a Samoyed husky and while I’ve never had one, I have had three extraordinary dogs that I have and continue to adore, including the current goof known as Riley Boo. I also had a dog growing up, who was my savior when I was bullied in 8th grade, who met me every day as the bus dropped me off. I’d walk, dejected and miserable along the side of the bus toward home and I’d hear the gallop. Looking up, there he’d be, Chaudee, his ears flying, tongue hanging out, coming to greet me, to welcome me home, to make the world OK at least for a few minutes. 

I dream still. I admit, freely, that I dream partly to avoid reality. Lately especially. Reality reigns down. It rains down, as well. Reality is the antithesis of dreaming. It is right here, right now, deal with it, figure it out. Horror. But dreaming is not yet realized. It is all about hope, and maybe. It can be something as simple as hoping for nice weather, dreaming for cool in the hot of the desert. It can be something as drastic as wishing for new government and direction. Dreaming is, by nature, oblique, ubiquitous. Possible. 

I dream of retiring. I dream of traveling, strangely enough for me, in a travel trailer. Strange because I don’t camp and have never once in my life dreamed of camping. I love nature, love the outdoors. I have no desire to sleep amongst it unless I can bring my own room with me. I dream. 

I dream of making wine and making a living at it. I dream of sleeping for more than six hours a night; I dream of being well-rested. I dream. 

I dream of writing a phenomenal book that is well received and praised, something that matters to people, that makes a difference. 

I dream. 

Lately, I’m dreaming of this: 

We have long had motorcycles as our way to enjoy the day. In California, we regularly rode the back canyons to wherever, along the ocean to somewhere north and away from the heat. Here, not so much. It’s simply too hot in the summer and in the winter, we have too many projects. 

I dream now of having a convertible that can be used in summer and winter, under the sun and to escape it. The idea of a car like this is nothing I’ve really dreamed of. One of my college roommates had a 1967 MGB convertible. It was fun; we had fun. But it’s never been a dream to have a convertible.

Until now. Now I’m not just dreaming. I’m salivating. Because it would be a great way, another way, to live it out loud.


live out loud

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