Dream Manifesto

Are Dreams Useless?

I doubt I'm the only one with big dreams. I reckon almost everyone had something grand in their lives that they wanted to achieve. For me, it's becoming a great storyteller; for others, it might be making money, settling down in a lounge, or nurturing a beautiful, loving family. What keeps us from achieving these things? Sure, every journey is different, but I think there might be something that ties all the broken, abandoned, and unfulfilled dreams of ours together. 

I'll start with me. The best stories I have come across have given me a reason to live. They made me feel when I was numb, and showed me a whole new universe where I saw pitch-black darkness before. On the one hand, I want to do this because I want to carry on the sacred tradition of myth-making. On the other hand, I definitely enjoyed experiencing stories more than most other things, perhaps it will be the same as an author?

All it took was a few hours and a computer screen to rid me of that notion. Make no mistake, doing anything we want is fucking hard work. It's confusing, excruciatingly pain-inducing, sacrificial, nerve-wrecking, and thankless. You find more frustration and fury than fiery inspiration, support, or victory. So achieving things is hard, no kidding lol. That's one roadblock we all share. But why is it so difficult?

To start off with, by virtue of the aspiration itself, it's likely that the object of achievement is far beyond the dreamer's reach. I want to get fit, cuz I'm fat. I want love cuz I'm lonely, and I need money cuz I'm broke. But it's not the distance that makes something appealing. If it were, I'd want nothing more than to visit Peru (on the other side of the world), or Jupiter, for that matter.

I bring this up because the motivation behind a dream might also be a major roadblock. We see this time and time again, greedy businessmen take shortcuts to get richer, but money just seems to run further away. Meanwhile, the most dedicated athletes tend to perform the greatest. Both are obsessed with their achievement, but have very different motivations. 

If I desire fitness as a means to an end, then it's not really fitness that I desire. If I want to earn money to be free, it's freedom that I want the most. That's why it's so important to ask, "Why?" Perhaps, with a little more clarity and self-awareness, we can lead happier, more fulfilling lives at little to no extra cost. A happier world is a kinder and healthier world, too.

So let me do this right now in real time. Why do I want to become a creator? Is it fame? I can't deny that I'm often lonely and wish to find other people like myself, who might match my energy. Sharing creations that reflect my soul is definitely one way to achieve that for me. 

How about riches? While I don't dream of jet planes or Bugattis (although I wouldn't mind going for a joyride every now and then, the idea of owning luxurious things stresses me out, lol), a lack of money is a source of great suffering. Being able to afford food, clothing, electricity, a bed, and shelter is essential for a good life. Beyond that, it can afford thrills, novelty, and much more. So yes, I want to earn so well that it removes all my financially related suffering, which is most of it. 

Still, the idea is to earn well by achieving my dream, so that it doesn't have to be a choice between the two. Other than that, money is not a core motivation, it seems. There are also some deeper, more vague motivations. A sense of soul that says this path will reveal who I am, like a call to action for self-discovery. I believe that to be the strongest motivation of all. 

I think the biggest reason we dream of something is not only that we lack it. Instead, it's the unrelenting belief that by getting it, something will greatly improve. It could be a constant source of pain that bogs down one's entire quality of life, like a debilitating addiction or a health condition. 

Perhaps it's the absence of something so essential, its lack feels painful. A heroin addict is always chasing that initial high, which is never to be reached again. That would be the case of getting, losing, and then pursuing something valuable, like Moby Dick. Teenagers discover romantic fiction and get enthralled with the idea of their perfect person, who can give their lives meaning and purpose. This is a case of discovering an idea so powerful, it ignites one's spirit, like the legend of Vinland for Vikings. 

That's what my dream feels like to me, except I don't know whether I'm searching for Vinland or El Dorado. The key difference is that the Vikings actually found Vinland in North America, whereas fortune-seekers never reached El Dorado (city of gold) or the Fountain of Youth. Either way, it's clear that most dreams involve a progressive orientation or an improvement over one's current situation. 

Who cares, really?

Interested in the subject, I asked everyone I met what their dreams were. To my surprise, most folks couldn't care less. You see, dreams are for those people who are dissatisfied with their current reality and seek something better. This discontent might arise from an awareness of another possibility, or perhaps an imagined one. Awareness could arise from mere luck or circumstance, an exposure to a different truth. 

Imagination could spring forth from inspiration meeting a certain constitution, also a product of luck and circumstance. Yet most people are not lucky, and we all just want to be happy. Imagine you're in a burning village at a mountain base, and you have to carry things to the peak, with the smoke engulfing you on the way, to reach some lofty kingdom on top, out of sight and out of reach. You have no idea how far away the zenith is, nor how long it will take.

Unsurprisingly, most people would find it a rigged game. Sacrifice your waking hours slaving away to an end, which seems like it may never come. Just to escape some smoke and fire? Surely, we can find another bearable place. One where we camp and make merry to live our days in peace. That's what people really want, isn't it? Soft, slow, gentle, laughter-filled, and easy living. Think of the Hobbit village in The Shire. Who doesn't want that?

Indeed, human beings, or perhaps all life in general, just want to play, have fun, and enjoy themselves. Even the dreamers enjoy a good feast, a long rest, and some thrill. The problem is that all things must come to an end, and that does not sit well with the dreamers. While the majority accepts that they do not need the party to be happy, a few are appalled at the hypocrisy. 

Folks pack up their bags and get ready to leave. They know that the most important thing to them is their happiness, so if the party is over, and the clean-up has begun, they will do that. Whatever needs to be done, they quietly accept it and, in return, are rewarded with a sense of relief. This, in turn, lets them find play in their labour. 

So what if the party is over? They can watch a nice film on Netflix. So what if the show is over? They can buy some nice things or engage in the ever-engaging mating rituals of fashion, image, and politics. After all, the games are never-ending. Life is short and we're all going to die, so let's live to the fullest while we're here, and squeeze life for all its worth.

Olympians are Unreasonable

The dreamers, on the other hand, are appalled at the shortsightedness. The craziest thing to them is that their peers are content to be born as pigs and live in the dirt, being gutted and spit-roasted at the whimsy of the Gods, when they have the option to break free from their cages and die with some dignity. Perhaps, to a select few, there is even a chance to become Gods themselves.

We knew that the journey might have been perilous, but that kingdom on the very top of the climb was something beyond the plane of human existence. We know that by being unreasonable, holding steadfast to our belief, and putting one step in front of the other, we could make our way to Mount Olympus, where before there was barren land. 

Something deep inside our souls screamed for ascension. It said that there was more to life than fucking in the dirt, surrounded by smoke and fire, but that we would have to forge it from our very hands. Of course, the path to progress is paved with horrors beyond comprehension. That's why we tend to stay in our lanes; the world is dangerous, and our little bubbles seem safe in comparison.

Hell, even if we get stomped inside our homes, at least we tried our best to be safe, so no one can really blame us, and more than that, there's no need to beat oneself up. Things aren't so bad, after all. Three meals a day, lots of shiny objects to chase after, and plenty of pretty things to mingle with. Yet, even the ones who settle are conflicted somehow. No matter how hard they try to be happy with what they have, they can't help but crave more.

Sustenance isn't enough; food needs to feel good. The company isn't enough; others must have our backs and sweep us off our feet. Seeing as how unreasonable these cravings are, they chalk it up to human greed, try to empty their minds, and focus on what's in front of them. "Individuals are sinful. Left alone, the mind is the devil's playground. It's best to contribute to society and find security in the group. Other people will keep you out of trouble, you just stick with them."

Those are the inevitable conclusions for folks content without dreams. Without unreasonable demands of their own, they become pawns to others and find comfort in peace. Yet, that endless greed should indicate to them that they are alive. That their hearts beat as individuals, even within their coveted groups. 

                                                                                                                                                                     

When worlds collide

One day, a weary traveler wanted some shelter along the perilous mountain. On her way, she found a group of villagers. They had settled down there for the night and were about to break bread. "Could I join you for the night? I dare say it would be rough to keep going in my condition." The group was not in the habit of saying no, since she must have been from the same village once. "Where are your peoples, miss?" asked a young boy from the tribe as she took out a piece of bread from her bag. 

"I don't have any, not on the way path I'm taking." His eyes lit up with curiosity, and with lively expression, he asked," And where might that be?" She points up to the faint yellow glow behind the thick clouds of smoke. Some members of the party gasped, while one of them burst into laughter. Everyone was paying attention now. 

"Don't tell me, you're going to the top???" said a thick-bearded man who had laughed at the exchange. "Indeed, I am." said the traveler calmly, with a courteous smile. "Hmph." He scoffed, his amusement fouling into annoyance. "You know, it's because of people like you that we have to live like this. You know that, don't you?" "Oh, don't you start now, Harry! Sorry, miss, don't you pay him no mind now." said a kind-looking lady who had gasped earlier. 

"It's okay, madam, I don't mind some lively conversation. Least I can do is hear the gentleman out, having broken bread with y'all and all." said the traveler. 

"Damn right you are! Crusaders and fortune-seekers like you have read the earth and ruined our lands!" 

"Language, Harry, the children." "My bad madam, my bad." "But seriously," he continued, turning back to the traveler. "You think you're too good for the rest of us!? On your lone way to such a dangerous end. What would your parents say, do you even care? If you had any sense, you would serve your tribe and look after your own, instead of chasing ghosts!"

The air was full of tension, but the traveler remained unbothered. Harry continued his rant, "It's not like we're a bunch of moochers either! Yeah, you should've met Jolm (pronounced Yo-ul-m) while he was here, what a soul she was. She was different too, but she put her skills to good use for the tribe! You see all these gadgets, food, and resources we carry? Jolm figured out how to do it for us, and then made sure we learned how. She's the only reason we're able to make it on our own."

The traveler had finished eating, and she looked up at Harry, intrigued, and asked, "Where is Jolm now?" 

Harry looked away for a second, "Died young, our poor Jolm." he said, remorseful. 

"The good ones always do." said the kind lady, in a sad tone. "She got really sick, and wasn't herself near the end. Said that we had sucked her for all she was worth." 

"Surely, she didn't mean it." said the young boy.

"Of course not!" exclaimed Harry. "That Jolm was an angel. She served us all her life. Everyone has a few regrets when their time comes, she was no different! That's what made her human, it's why we loved her, she was just like us, one of our own." 

Everyone's voices died down, as they seemed to go down their respective memory lanes. 

*Deep sigh* The traveler broke the silence, turning a few heads. She stood up, and got ready to move.

"I thought youse was staying the night ma'am!" said the boy sadly.

"I've found my second wind." She said with a smile. 

"It's for the best." said Harry. "On yer way then, crusader. Hope we never see you again round these parts." As she was starting to leave, she heard this, and looked Harry right in the eye, with a kind, grateful smile.

"Thank you." was all she said. Harry was surprised for a second. Then, he got hold of himself and tuned his attention to the dinner stew, mumbling to himself. The traveler headed out, looking up at the menacing clouds with a newfound confidence and determination. She looked down for a moment, as if to pay tribute to some great sacrifice, covered her mouth, put on her goggles, and went on her way.

"Do you think she'll make it, Harry?" asked the kind lady, quietly.

"Doesn't really matter, does it? She'll be better off either way." he said calmly, without diverting his attention from the stew.