Dreams and dogs

Dreams don’t come floating on fluffy white clouds. 

Nor do they have star popping centers with tinsel trimmed edges. No, there is none of that mystical magic in making dreams come true. For those times when dreams are to sail out of the stupefied subconscious into reality, it is only grit, ambition and hard work that will lead the way. And never giving up. It’s so easy to get sold on the romance of living out a dream, misled by the marketing and packaging of ‘making dreams come true’. Fatally underestimating how thin you have to be willing to be stretched, how little sleep you will have to sustain on, how much you have to continually believe in it. Blood, sweat and tears. Thats what dreams comprise of. 

Would you take on someone else’s dream though? Strange things happen, stranger than they seem. All of a sudden you could be straddled with an abandoned dream you never dreamt, to realise or let perish. Like that puppy the kids wanted so bad, their biggest dream. They beg and plead, it’s their only Christmas wish. There’s nothing else in the world they’d rather have. Until you get the dog and it doesn’t walk itself, chews up all the new furniture, reduces exotic family holiday destinations to places only reachable in dog-ride km’s. Dreams have that very inconvenient thing about them, they demand sacrifice and commitment and even a complete change in life-style. A permanent departure from the plush comfort-zone. They make you forfeit luxury treats of laziness and relaxation. Or else those cherished aspirations become an irresponsible recklessness, ending up like the Christmas pup, in the orphanage of abandoned dreams. 

Two days ago, 5 otherwise completely disconnected people become a team of focused foster-parents to one such abandoned dream from that orphanage of dreams. Once loved and cherished too, by someone. Overnight they had not 1, but 2 full-time jobs. Dreams want to know nothing of all the misfortunes life has slung at you. They were dreamt into existence, so you rise to the challenges of rough times. What good is it hiding behind self-pity if it comes at the cost of giving up on dreams? Giving up, even on adopted dreams.

Is that even a thing, an adopted dream? Whom are we kidding, dreams are not dogs. 

Dreams come floating on fluffy white clouds.