I have always been a dreamer. One who devours anything I can read and then fantasizes about the grassy hillsides, fighting a, animal friends, and magical places found in beautiful tales woven by authors such as Tolkien, Lewis, McKinley, and Rowling.
I have always been a dreamer. The first nighttime dream I remember is from third grade (16 years ago). I dream of love, of friends, of flying. My dreams can be so vivid that I wake up struggling to discern what is reality.
I have always been a dreamer. But I never have allowed myself to dream about the future. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's a subconscious effort to avoid being disappointed with what actually occurs. Growing up, I never did know exactly what I wanted to "be when I grew up." Oh, I had fleeting thoughts. A vet (quickly shut down by job shadowing), an investigative journalist (thank you Lois and Clark), a missionary (waiting for this). Not until I worked at a women's shelter and social work popped onto my radar did I ever have a concrete dream for the future.
And, six years later, I am not a social worker. (Not yet, anyway.) In all of my dreaming, I did not dream that while at school, studying what I love, I would get so sick I would need to leave amid a slew of personal and family crises. I never dreamed that I would be diagnosed with chronic fatigue, depression, and anxiety--a triple threat. I never dreamed that I would have to move home for a year, physically unable to write, study, read, concentrate. I never dreamed that recovery and healing could take so long or be so hard.
Recovery has had its bright moments. Thanks to the work of a chiropractor and a Nutrition Response Therapist, my neck is now pointed the right way and I am off of foods that make my brain go nuts. I am able to read voraciously again (still working on my ability to process nonfiction), work on foreign language, exercise, and--this is my first attempt in a long time--write.
The past year has held many dreams. I moved to central Florida to work for our favorite Mouse. Oh the dreams that job held for me! Unfortunately, I got so sick so often that I was unable to continue in that role. Then I was a character performer for another company, which was fantastic! I never dreamed that I could actually hang out with such wonderful characters. I never allowed myself to dream that I could wholeheartedly enjoy a job so incredibly much. This enjoyment surprised me and thrilled me to no end. And now I am headed back to the Mouse, to a land of baby tigers and hippos and elephants, to see what another dream has to offer.
During this year, as dreams have come and gone and come again, I discovered another set of dreams. In July I began volunteering regularly at Give Kids the World Village, where Make A Wish (and other such organizations) house families whose life-threatening ill children wish to come see Mickey and Harry Potter and Shamu. Through working at the Village, I have met extraordinary children and loving families who have given everything to help fight these sicknesses. I, with them, have begun to dream of a world where childhood illnesses can be cured. Where they, like other children, can always run and play and dance without fear of tubes or wheelchairs or sickness. We dream of the promise of tomorrows that stretch until these beloveds reach old age. And so these families live to the fullest of every moment, however bright or bleak, and they still dream of the tomorrows.
Tomorrow I begin my new role with the Mouse. Many dreams are poking their way to the surface again after beating a hasty retreat last June. I am not quite as starry-eyed as when I first arrived in central Florida, but I am learning to renew my dreaming. Dreams do not have substance and cannot be stored in a jar or drawer; but, much like faith (though faith's power is even more potent), dreams can motivate us to remember that this moment will eventually become tomorrow. And tomorrow brings new dreams.
My friends, never give up your dreaming.
I have always been a dreamer. The first nighttime dream I remember is from third grade (16 years ago). I dream of love, of friends, of flying. My dreams can be so vivid that I wake up struggling to discern what is reality.
I have always been a dreamer. But I never have allowed myself to dream about the future. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's a subconscious effort to avoid being disappointed with what actually occurs. Growing up, I never did know exactly what I wanted to "be when I grew up." Oh, I had fleeting thoughts. A vet (quickly shut down by job shadowing), an investigative journalist (thank you Lois and Clark), a missionary (waiting for this). Not until I worked at a women's shelter and social work popped onto my radar did I ever have a concrete dream for the future.
And, six years later, I am not a social worker. (Not yet, anyway.) In all of my dreaming, I did not dream that while at school, studying what I love, I would get so sick I would need to leave amid a slew of personal and family crises. I never dreamed that I would be diagnosed with chronic fatigue, depression, and anxiety--a triple threat. I never dreamed that I would have to move home for a year, physically unable to write, study, read, concentrate. I never dreamed that recovery and healing could take so long or be so hard.
Recovery has had its bright moments. Thanks to the work of a chiropractor and a Nutrition Response Therapist, my neck is now pointed the right way and I am off of foods that make my brain go nuts. I am able to read voraciously again (still working on my ability to process nonfiction), work on foreign language, exercise, and--this is my first attempt in a long time--write.
The past year has held many dreams. I moved to central Florida to work for our favorite Mouse. Oh the dreams that job held for me! Unfortunately, I got so sick so often that I was unable to continue in that role. Then I was a character performer for another company, which was fantastic! I never dreamed that I could actually hang out with such wonderful characters. I never allowed myself to dream that I could wholeheartedly enjoy a job so incredibly much. This enjoyment surprised me and thrilled me to no end. And now I am headed back to the Mouse, to a land of baby tigers and hippos and elephants, to see what another dream has to offer.
During this year, as dreams have come and gone and come again, I discovered another set of dreams. In July I began volunteering regularly at Give Kids the World Village, where Make A Wish (and other such organizations) house families whose life-threatening ill children wish to come see Mickey and Harry Potter and Shamu. Through working at the Village, I have met extraordinary children and loving families who have given everything to help fight these sicknesses. I, with them, have begun to dream of a world where childhood illnesses can be cured. Where they, like other children, can always run and play and dance without fear of tubes or wheelchairs or sickness. We dream of the promise of tomorrows that stretch until these beloveds reach old age. And so these families live to the fullest of every moment, however bright or bleak, and they still dream of the tomorrows.
Tomorrow I begin my new role with the Mouse. Many dreams are poking their way to the surface again after beating a hasty retreat last June. I am not quite as starry-eyed as when I first arrived in central Florida, but I am learning to renew my dreaming. Dreams do not have substance and cannot be stored in a jar or drawer; but, much like faith (though faith's power is even more potent), dreams can motivate us to remember that this moment will eventually become tomorrow. And tomorrow brings new dreams.
My friends, never give up your dreaming.
