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The Dream and The Dreamers

Last year, I began to lose everything one by one. Time seemed to be a continuous slip through my fingers, and I became obsessed that I lost sight of the world around me. My optimism was at its highest when I fell in love with a boy starting his solo music career just around the same time I was beginning to fully write about music.

One could say we met each other at the right time. One could say I found a beautiful dreamer. Yet, with the continuation of losses, he left one hand as the other continued to write.

I was a dreamer, that’s why.

He was a dreamer, that’s why.

Wasn’t this how it was supposed to be? The dreamers chasing after a dream.

The money came to a halt and for almost seven months and I was completely unemployed. Murphey’s law continued, as I spent the days going to doctors trying to figure out what was wrong with me, while during the night I hid my father’s illness. I was once again sleeping on the couch, broke, depressed, and ultimately alone in my head. Now with all the time in the world, I still couldn’t go out and cover these shows. Now with all the time in the world, I still couldn’t write. I had the bare minimum to survive yet I lost everything to live.

As everything left my possession, the one thing I tried to hold on to was “this dream.” I begged to myself that I couldn’t let this go, and at the same time couldn’t understand why I had to hold on so desperately for happiness.

This is a dream. Wasn’t this how it was supposed to be?

This wasn’t another trial that haunted my adolescents, or the first time I faced hardships. Memories resurfaced of being homeless, yet with contentment and optimism. This led to the unanswered question of why — what did I have then that I obviously was missing now?

That’s when it hit me: I lost myself.

I lost it all for writing. I lost it all for these bands. I lost sleep writing to make an attempt of helping another’s dream. I lost money believing in my own project that it left me hungry. I lost everything. I even lost the dream. The dream’s worth left me puzzled as now I once again just became the dreamer.

This was a dream. Wasn’t this how it was supposed to be?

This is the part no one mentions. This is the part that becomes edited from the story. The part where The Dreamer lists what went wrong, and then easily adds the resolution. No one questions the middle once they hit the end.

We’ve all heard the inspirational stories. We’ve all heard the lines, quotes, and colorful word play that have been passed from culture to culture, generation to generation, and from language to language. Inspiring during the hardest times to offer some sort of relief, when in reality it’s just a comparison from one to another, which can never be measured. It’s a murky glass window teasing rays of light peeking through.  What of the storm that nearly destroys that glass? What about that story? There’s a comfort in knowing this that glass can break; there’s comfort in being human.

No one mentions how depressed you may become. No one mentions how small you will feel. No one mentions how ultimately human you will become, and no one mentions how you may utter the word “hate” towards something you love. It’s just stated, “that’s how it’s supposed to be,” as if you need to choose what you love for who you love, and what you get can get now for what needs to wait.

You are just a dreamer. That is just a dream.

From the couch those thoughts swarmed in and out, and through the same way I lost myself, I ultimately found the missing piece. I am not a dreamer, nor do I just have a dream. This is the part no one mentions because so few get past the first part –chasing The Dream – and they never fully meet The Dreamer.

The Dream and The Dreamers create but only after everything is destroyed. It’s not a labor of love, nor a sacrifice. It’s not a choice of hardship, nor a path of loneliness. It’s something frightenly beautiful it can only be human. Time wasn’t wasted, but patience was earned.

Here is to all who still love. Here is to all who stopped dreaming. Here is to the boy I still love. Here is to the human in-between.

Here is to The Dream and The Dreamers.

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