Dreams
Tell me, what are your dreams? This is a question I’ve put to a number of friends recently. I mean dreams which you can control. Dreams which become goals that you work towards.
I always used to be something of a dreamer. And I’d commit to doing what I could to make my dreams a reality.
I practised, in the back garden, at the park, and with a tennis ball in the playground. Any opportunity I could find would see me outside practising both outfield positions, and keeping goal. The hard work paid off, and several years later, I was selected for the first team at university. After graduating and joining the civil service, I played for the Ministry of Defence mixed team.
In the back garden at home.
Photo credit: R. A. Lord
I also dreamt of becoming an astronaut. This dream adapted as it became a goal. While studying for my A levels, I wrote to the European Space Agency (ESA) to ask what sort of qualifications I would need in order to work for ESA. I had an idea, but I hoped someone from ESA would reply to me anyway. They did (maths, science and technology subjects, by the way). I worked hard in my career, ever progressing towards my goal. As with the football, it took years of work. Until late in 2008, I found myself representing the UK at the ESA financial committee, discussing project funding for ExoMars. Through this role, I had the chance to work with current astronauts, meet retired astronauts, and participate in a zero-gravity flight. All opportunities which my younger self would have leapt at in place of becoming an astronaut. The experience was no less incredible as an adult.
What are my dreams today? This question arose when I was thinking again recently about how I identify. I realised that I no longer have dreams. The big ideas I brought from childhood and worked towards into adulthood are no more. There are things I hope for – which tend to be hopes on behalf of others (such as hoping for health and happiness for my husband and our son) – but I have no dreams of my own. If someone asked me, as part of my introduction, to tell them what my dreams are, I’d falter.
It’s never too late to dream, but we sometimes grow too busy with life. The days pass and suddenly we’re in the second half of the year, moving quickly towards 2020. But though the beginning of the new Millennium was a few years ago, does it really feel almost 20 years distant? What proportion of your life has passed in 20 years (if you were born before 2000)? Think about what has changed in life, for better and for worse during this time. Doesn’t 2040 feel like a long way off … another 20 years. It’ll pass quickly. Think of the possibilities for those 20 years though. Perhaps now is the time to reflect on what your dreams are, and to begin working towards them. I’d like to reach 2040 and look back thinking I’d worked towards new dreams, alongside coping with life’s challenges and opportunities.
You gotta have a dream. If you don’t have a dream, how you gonna make a dream come true? Oscar Hammerstein II
The next stage is to find time to think about what my dreams are. They must exist, they have just become blurred by life. It’s almost impossible to stop for long enough to create headspace, but it’s essential to do so. It can feel like a mother’s lot to live to keep others safe and happy. Not all women are biological mothers, but many seem to fall into some form of caring or nurturing role. Towards parents, siblings, partners, animal companions, colleagues, step children, neighbours, other friends and relatives. Indeed, I’ve written before about my own mother’s sacrifices for her family. However, sometimes, one must also take time to keep oneself happy. Time to allow one’s mind to freestyle as an intricate dream catcher. Then have the courage to take those dreams and jump …
“And you ask …
… “what if I fall?”
… “Oh but my darling, what if you fly?””
Erin Hanson
