Dreams

I’m thankful for dreams that come true, for ones that don’t, and the ability to change my mind about what I’m dreaming of.

I wanted to be a princess in a castle in a far-away land where they spoke French, an archeologist in Egypt, a business woman (with red power suits and shoulder pads–what can I say, Hollywood is effective at crafting an image) in a tall building in a big city, a historian, a professor, a shopkeeper. I wanted the big romance and the happily ever after. I dreamed all of these things. Dreams carried me to interesting, beautiful places. And sometimes, my wildest dreams came completely true.

I studied French from seventh grade onward. That’s the language of Cendrillon and Perrault. I got to live in Tours, France where weekend excursions often entailed going to any number of chateaux. I learned that being the daughter of a pork butcher is so much better a life than any princess could have, luckier, more loved.

As far as a high-powered business woman, well, any time there was more month than budget, I could always whip up a bunch of earrings to sell. I’ve been making money on jewelry since middle school, and I’m still at it. With these broad, swimmer’s shoulder, thank heavens I don’t have to wear shoulder pads or a red power suit while I do it. I’ve never owned a power suit, red or otherwise. UGH, can you imagine??? Gross.

While I never became an archeologist, I’m surrounded by cats who think they’re gods so in many ways, I have much in common with the Ancient Egyptians. I did study history, I was on the academic path, when it became clear my health (mental/physical/spiritual) would suffer irreparably if I kept going. But my time was not wasted in the process. I got to meet some of the best humans on the planet, travel with them to Russia and Germany, share meals, tell the most insider-baseball nerdy trauma-bonded jokes and laugh ourselves stupid. All the while, I have a thirst to understand people in nuanced, complicated circumstances. (The running joke was the study of history could be summed up with–things were different in different places at different times and it’s much more complicated than we originally thought.) :oP

I got to be a shopkeeper for almost five years. I learned so much about myself, but even more I learned how much people are hurting. How very much everyone longs to be seen and loved and heard. I did not study to be a counselor/therapist/psychiatrist, but I unofficially wore that hat too. People like pretty things, buying gifts for themselves and others. People also like a calm, safe space to just be. I had a Whitman student who came into my shop semi-regularly who would walk in, look around, and take a deep, sighing breath after a hard day. She bought things on occasion, but more importantly, she found a space to get a little peace. What an honor. Learning about my costumers and their needs was beyond what I imagined (that was certainly tempered by book-keeping and slow seasons).

I met, fell in love with, and married THE ONE. I got the big catch. The once in a lifetime. My dream come true. While that dream didn’t last as long as I had hoped, I can in full honesty say if we lived another 30 years together, it still wouldn’t have been long enough. So I have to focus on the best parts of that dream.

And I’m at a point where I get to dream new dreams and push toward different manifestations of old ones. Will I write and publish that book I know is lurking just below the surface of my heart? Will I find ways to teach that don’t follow a rote path? Will I continue to make peaceful, calm spaces for those who need it most?

Am I thankful for dreams? Oh yes–the ones that come true and the ones that don’t. But more than anything, I love the dreams that I can reimagine.

[Virtual tip jar: https://venmo.com/u/Rebecca-Lubbers-1]