Child of Dreams

I'm turning 30 tomorrow and I'm celebrating with a week of posts about the essence of Claire Dawn. Also, lots of Disney in today's post. Guess when Walt Disney's birthday was. Yup, December-borns rock!
(Aso thanks to all who wished me a happy birthday yesterday when I miscalculated the date. Just because I'm happy about being 30, doesn't mean I'm not senile.)

I'm a child of dreams.




I suppose if you stop to think about it, all writers are. I mean where would all those intricately crafted worlds and plots and characters come from, if not dreams? And apart from that, we have to dream hard to get those stories out there. I mean, writers get shot down more than short guys with crossed eyes and bad breath. (No offense to short guys with crossed eyes and bad breath - I'm just saying.) Still we push on, because we're dreamers.




Society doesn't like dreamers. Sure, Western society claims they do. One of the latest Disney productions, even goes as far as to say it outright. 'Go, live your dream.' But we all know the reality. How every waitress in Hollywood is a wannabe actress. And every guy at the open mic couldn't land a record deal. And every aspiring writer is just 'another one of those people who think someone is interested in what they have to say'.





True, there are rewards out there for dreamers. Just look at the A-listers' paychecks. Society loves A-listers. They drool at the tidbits falling off Will Smith's and Charlie Sheen's and Kim Kardashian's tables. Yet, they conveniently ignore that you don't start on a list. Before you make it, you have to dream. Even if it's just a little. Even Eminem says that's where he started.



So this weird dichotomy arises where people love those who dared to dream. And love to hear how many millions they made last month. But when your dream is sill just a cloud floating by-y-y, they laugh and call you crazy. Or smile and nod and don't say the 'c' word out loud, even though they think it.

Silly rabbit! Trix (and dreams) are for kids. Little girls can swoon all over the place singing about Prince Charmings and wearing tiaras. Little boys can want to grow up and be astronauts and cowboys and superheroes. You're supposed to outgrow dreams the same time you outgrow the tiara and the cape. 



Adults are business people. They do what is necessary and don't have time for frivolous things like feeling like this is their place in life. They're too busy paying bills for that.

And you, as an adult, should be the same. Flitting about the place thinking about something that may or may not make you money, now or ever? That's childish. Doing a job you feel lukewarm about, making money, investing and saving, marrying a decent person and having 2.5 kids- that's the adult thing to do.

Dreamers don't work like that.



Dreamers have these pictures in their minds. Things the way they could be. That's not to say that every adult doesn't have dreams of the way the wished things were. But they will write it off, as a secret something they can only enjoy in their head. Dreamers feel like they have to follow the call.





Personally, I don't seem to really do long-term dreams. I wanted to be a scientist when I was little. Poking around, figuring out why things are the way they are sounded ideal for the ever-curious baby Claire Dawn. Then I came to understand how much of science was really boring and repetitive and that went right out the window.





For years I've tried to stay at the intersection of Imagination Boulevard and Practicality Way. I've gotten into fields (the military, tourism, teaching) which society respects, and which pay decently and where I can do something a little off the beaten path. But  the repetitive part gets me and I don't last long. I never last long.

I don't know if I ever will. Maybe I'm meant to spend my whole life running behind whatever scent my nose picks up on the wind. Maybe I'll drag myself back to psych some time, and it will kill the part of me that loses interest in life. Who knows?




I want to be a writer. I can not promise that's forever. I've never really been good at forever. Loving something today has never meant I won't feel indifferent to it tomorrow. But I feel that if I'm going to anything for the rest of my life, writing is definitely my best shot. I've already been doing this with a semi-professional mindset for 3 years - which is like 15 in Claire-years. I think it's because I can be completely different in every book. Hopefully that will be enough.




I don't know if I can make it as a writer. Or how long I'll want to. For me, the only important part is that it's what I want right now. So despite everything, I hope I make. If nothing else, a rabbit can dream, can't he?




If I dream, I might make it. If I don't, I'm definitely going nowhere. It starts with a dream.

I am a child of dreams.