of dreaming and doing

some people say dreaming is for children. I remember well, when I was that age, how I was encouraged to delve deep into my imagination and pull to the surface the wondrous things I found there. my imagination has always been a magical place, full of talking rivers and enchanted forests and wise old women living in huts of rock and moss. I loved wandering around my inner world, and at night, when I closed my eyes, I let myself glide away to those far-away places, knowing I would fall deep, but land softly on a pillow of clouds. I was given many, many a fantastic book, and devoured all of them, often not putting them down until I had read every last sentence. I had many dreams at this time, dreams of how my life would be, and the worlds I wanted to be part of. I didn't understand what it all meant, then, but in my dreams, I felt at home. to me, they felt very real, more real than most other things. allowing myself to delve deep into my imagination, weaving intrinsic inner worlds full of life and love, is how I learnt to dream. now, when I close my eyes, I go to places of wonder, places full of smells and tastes and sensations and beauty. and when I lay down on the earth under a sky full of stars on a mellow summer's night, the lines become blurry and the worlds become one. dream becomes reality, reality becomes dream, one and the same thing, a universe of possibility. what I see there makes my eyes sparkle and my nerves bristle. it gives me goosebumps, shakes my bones, strums my chords, touches my core, lights up my soul. what I see there feels real, more than real, true. it is the truest of all truths, the truest version of life itself. but opening my eyes is painful. I return to a place that, as I was growing up, also taught me that dreams are just dreams, and therefore best left inside my imagination. they have no place in this world called reality, I am told. I am told that this world requires its inhabitants to be sensible and rational, to know their place, and to stick to it. I am told to stop dreaming, to stop living in the clouds, to finally sober up and get a grip on myself. to do as I am told. to see things for what they are. and to arrange myself with what can't be changed: reality. I try to listen, but it doesn't quite ring true. I am confused, can't quite tell what is making me feel uneasy, until a face appears in my mind's eye, the face of an old lady. I knew her well, she was in no way average, and she never ceased to suprise. at the age of 80, she went to a computer course and from that day on exchanged emails with friends and family all around the world. a while later, she received a mobile phone and learnt to send texts and photos, and eventually even to make video calls. at the age of 85, she was regularly catching a plane to visit her family. at the age of 90, she was still living in her house. she was as intelligent, interested and open-minded as ever. though she no longer had as much energy, she had books, and the books she read were sophisticated and complex, taking her out into the wide world. at the age of 18, however, when she had attended grammar school and had presented her excellent grades and the teachers' report and recommendations to her mum, the only reply she had gotten had been: "girls of our class don't study medicine". without the support of her family, so shortly after the war, she hadn't been able to see a way of making university possible. so, instead of becoming a doctor, she had made her life about her husband, children and grandchildren. she was my grandma. she never told me this story, never spoke much about life before starting her family. when she was young, women did as they were told. women knew their place. they were polite, and they behaved. they were good girls. and it wasn't just women, men stayed where they belonged aswell: within their class. today, when I hear the answer she received that day, I feel hopeless. I feel small. I feel powerless. I feel stuck. and I realise why: she was made to give up on her dreams. though she never mentioned them again, there was always an air of faint longing lingering about her. I feel sad remembering it, a faint melancholy. and, finally, I am able to pinpoint my confusion: what I am feeling is the traces all abandoned dreams leave behind, faint imprints, lingering on like whisps of smoke, like silvery ghosts, reminiscent of an alternative future never grasped, and never forgotten. I start to come across them almost everywhere I turn. so many seem to live in longing. the omnipresent narrative has become internalised: dreams don't transpire in real life. especially not the big ones. nothing can change, put up with it, keeping a dream alive is a waste of energy, and it is best to forget about it. like broken records, these messages play on repeat in many people's minds. it's easy to believe what they have to say, to conclude that I don't actually have any authority over my own life. that I don't have agency. that I am not worthy of the things I dream of, that they are in my imagination only. I mustn't dare, better remain safe. I am afraid of discomfort, of uncertainty, and of the judgment I would be met with if I fail. I am afraid of success, because I have long concluded I am unworthy, and success would contradict my worldview. I decide dreams are not for me, that I prefer to maintain the status quo, at least that way I know what I get, what to expect. at least I have things under control. these aren't conscious thoughts, they are happening on a deeper level, reinforced by experiences of feeling powerless, and the opinions of others. I feel I am a victim of the world, things happen to me, I have no power over my life. these thoughts create the basis I react from: I mechanically do whatever it takes to regain control. all day long, I am bombarded with problems to solve, with duties to fulfill, with shiny, sparkling distractions, claiming to hold the key to happiness. on autopilot, I dodge one danger to my sense of control after another, and grasp as much of what saitisfies my thirst for pleasure as possible, going to great lengths to ensure the status quo is maintained. but no matter how hard I try, no matter how perfectly I follow those rules, the longing never leaves. it is always there, in the back of my mind, that silvery whisp reminding me of an alternative reality. it's bittersweet, calling to me, singing me to it. I ignore it, but whatever I do, I am always wanting. many things happen, and all I say is that I would love to. I am mesmerised and can't stop looking at something, but I never take any steps or act on anything. I am in a constant state of wanting to be somewhere I am not. whenever I dream of something, I water it down, until it hardly resembles the dream anymore, and tell myself I fulfilled it, but deep down, I am as disappointed as ever. I use the weekends for catching up with what I missed out on, but the dread of monday mornings starts creeping in earlier and earlier until I am always escaping the present moment, because it feels so meaningless in comparison to my inner world. but then, one day, I give up, I can't keep going. I have tried everything I could to follow the rules of the real world, without success. abandoning myself while doing so. my dreams are who I am. my imagination, my inner world, they are my unique identity, what makes me me. and this time, I give in to the longing, and the songs of another world. dreaming isn't just for children, dreaming is for everyone. I make a choice. I choose my dreams above everything else. I become aware of what is going on, so I can consciously decide what to do about each individual thing. I learn to say no. I only choose what is for me, trusting the things with that dreamy quality about them to guide me on my path. after a while, I realise I am stepping into my power. I no longer feel helpless, life doesn't just happen to me, I am discovering my agency. I realise I can stand up for myself, and protect myself. through the power of choice I am proving to myself that I have an effect on my life. I am not just a puppet, but have the power to take intrinsic steps. and those steps create effects in the outside world. I am free, free to decide for myself. free to not put up with things. free to not accept the status quo. free to not know my place in society. I am transforming my dreams into reality, and reality is changing because of it. I am no longer dreaming of or wanting to, I am actually doing. I feel myself vibrating, buzzing, getting excited about life. it can be the tinyest thing. but I must follow my dreams to the T, no matter how ridiculous they seem, they must not be tweaked or changed so they "make more sense". however I imagined it, I must do it. I am dreaming up whatever arises within me, seemingly emerging out of thin air, generated by nothing but pure, unique essence of my very own self. and then I go out and create what I have seen. after a while I look around in my new world, and I can't stop myself. I am in awe. the beauty leaves me breathless, my soul sings from the magic I see. and I myself am responsible for it. I dreamed of it, and I created it. and in this moment I know that I am not going to stop dreaming and creating anytime soon.