I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.
I’ve had seven decades to figure that out and I still don’t know.
I’ve gone through life pretty much doing whatever came to hand, with some successes, but without really having any dreams. I can’t remember ever having dreams or even “a dream,” even as a kid, though I suppose I did. Don’t we all? Maybe our dreams are just to survive or maybe they’re to help others survive, or maybe even thrive, but I don’t recall any major desire to do something grand, or even small, but intense.
When I was asked what I wanted to do when I was graduated from high school, I gave that vague response so many young folks do: I want to help people. Is that a dream? It was a desire, but is that a dream? I did, indeed, help people, I think. A career as a medical technologist helped me save a life now and again.
But I never had a dream that said, “I want to save lives.” Who, me? So, was that a dream?
Does having a dream have to involve having a plan and an aim? Or can we just mosey along, doing what comes to hand and do good without having a dream? I sure hope so!
I always believed I could do whatever I set my mind to and, most of the time, I did. But wouldn’t a dream involve setting my heart, rather than my mind, to it?
I remember one time when my riding instructor told us that the way to get over a jump, and make sure the horse jumped, too, was to “throw your heart over the fence and then follow it.” Isn’t it that way with a dream? You know, I can’t recall that I’ve ever thrown my heart anywhere except over some fences. We jumped a few of those, my horses and me. We even got some ribbons for that, but was that a dream?
Well, yes, it was, to some extent. I’ve always loved horses and my greatest desire was to ride them. I did that, for about twenty years, but then the horses got old and sick and eventually I lost them. I’ve never managed to get my heart back from that.
Now, it’s not likely I’ll ever have that dream again, but I can relive it, though doing that often makes me tear up, even sob now and again. I guess my heart is still out there, but the dream isn’t going to happen again.
Where do lost dreams go? How do we go on when the dreams are lost? Why do we go on? There must be a reason.
Now I pretend I’m a writer and while I can write, I’m not sure if I should call that a dream or not. I’ll write for a few years and see if it develops some heart. If my family history is significant, I have at least twenty more years to get over that fence.
So, I have no dream, no plans, but that doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying life. Oh, yes, there’s that. It is possible to mosey along, just amble through life, with no major aim or goal, and still enjoy it.
And maybe that’s my dream. To just enjoy life, whatever it brings.