On Dreams

Dreams, wow, what a subject. I just read an incredible novel in which a father asks his young son what would happen if he went to the Sahara desert and moved one grain of sand, and in their conversation the boy realizes that he would have changed the desert, the world and, in fact, the universe. Clearly, we can make more fulfilling, interesting and ultimately important choices than moving one grain of sand. But it’s not so much the grain of sand that we individually choose to move, but the collective effort of our fellow travellers on this Earth. The more good we do, the more good we inspire, whether it’s inspiring people to fight injustice, help the homeless, feed the hungry, or just be better parents and raise children who will also do their part, however small, to make the world a better place, we are moving our grain of sand.

I live a mile from the street on which I grew up. Did I dream of other things, other places, other works. Yes, absolutely, but our adult lives are what dreams turn into when confronted with the inexorable forces of reality. And reality requires us to constantly adjust our priorities. My childhood dreams did not include the sacrifices I would make, would want to make, as a parent, did not include the eventual realization that Michigan, cold, economically depressed, culturally rather insignificant, is my home, and that, ultimately, home would be a very high priority for me.

As I hit middle age (or as it hits me), I have also realized that some dreams do o.k. on ice. I’m thawing out some of my childhood ambitions as time and circumstances allow, pursuing more appealing intellectual and creative pursuits than changing diapers. It is said that life is a journey, not a destination, and it is a journey on which we carry our dreams, passing through different places in the process of our dreams, defining, redefining, searching, reprioritizing, and reconsidering exactly which grain of sand we want to move on any given day.