How Did I Get Here, And Where Is The Next Turn?

Greetings and salutations to all who deem this worthy of your time...

Brought up Feb 7, 2012

I Talk of Dreams...

One of my favorite quotes from Shakespeare begins with those words... "I talk of dreams, which are the children of an idle brain..." There's a lot more to it, but that part comes to me often. Basically, Mercucio has been B S ing with his buds about how dreams are not real. Dreams are for our amusement and entertainment as we sleep, but are of 'thinner substance than the air.'

As much as I like Ole Bill in general, and half nuts Mercucio in particular, I have to disagree. Where would we be if Mr Gates or Mr Jobs said, 'Nah, it'll never work. I'll go dig a ditch, or be a banker.' Even those started as ideas for someone. Some poor guy, hundreds of years ago, had to see how water carved away the soil, and thought, if we dig it out more, the water will stay and maybe run deeper. Dreams... they are the beginning of ideas. Ideas become reality with work.

I talk of dreams... and I dream a lot. I have spent more years with my head in the clouds than I care to speculate. I dream of things I would change in my past if I could, of things I'd like to happen now, of how I would love my future to be. I dream of what my kids will do, of where I screwed up with them, of what I know I did right. A lot of my dreams become stories in my head, full blown, ready to write down as if dictated to me. Life would be pretty boring if people didn't dream. There would be no stories to tell, no movies. We'd be living in caves still if someone hadn't ignored the chuckles from his pals and kept piling branches and mud to make a hut. So, dreams are good.

No, I'm not suggesting that all dreams are good, or that we should all live in our heads all the time. I am actually trying to live more in the real world these days. Yet, just when I think that I am a much more grounded, solid person, a wild dream wakes me either sweating, looking for what ever had me freaked out, or chuckling, thinking, I need to write that down. It's as if someone gives me a little shake, saying, come on, kiddo, this what you're really good at in the first place. Oh, well... Bill, my friend, 400+ years later, and people still read or watch others perform your dreams... Maybe there's a small corner in the future where someone will be reading what I write.

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