A New Dream?

Theme song: Somebody to love

Friends, watch the video. This Woodstock live performance by Grace Slick and Co. is P-O-W-E-R-F-U-L. That lady has an amazing voice and presence.)

Recently, I received evidence (in the form of my ex-husband's latest love interest) that my dream of an intact marriage and nuclear family is dead. Logic and reason didn't require this new evidence, but somehow my subconscious decided that, once again, it was time to kick the coffin.

And you know, my toe hurts. Luckily, I practice so much yoga that, despite my advanced age of 43, I am able to suck it. (TMI?)

Before you say I'm crazy, which is I guess basically true (in the best possible way, I know!), let's review The Grieving Process. That's the process that always takes wwwwwaaaaayyyyy longer than you wanted, is nonlinear, and has an itty bitty tendency to bite you on the b*** when you least expect it.

Ouch, mama!

The Old Dream

Here is a little review of the old dream:

• Life partner
• White picket fence
• Lap dog of the white man
• Nuclear family
• Stability, safety, security, belonging

Plus, Michael and I shared love and romance for a very long time. As with any major loss, sorrow over it leaves residuals in your heart -- hopefully creating a source of compassion for yourself and everyone. But it still hurts, dammit.

Like, Friday, my son had a "minor" surgery on his head to remove a non pigmented mole.

The surgery needed to be done and he's not going to miss the mole, per se. Yet it was a part of him that had to be excised with sharp knives and repaired with needles, thread, and lots of pushing and pulling (I watched; I know).

Despite the necessity and inevitability of the surgery, he experienced pain and loss. He bled and he cried. And he endured.

And so it is with dreams. It is necessary and inevitable, in certain cases, that they die. And yet, dammit, it still hurts.

What About the New Dream?

When the old dream dies and leaves you with ghosts, it seems there is no Dream Store where you can go and buy a new one (on credit, with a payment plan and, yes, of course we take cash).

The old dream wasn't rendered consciously. It came from, in my case at least, my deepest childhood longings.

Now that I'm a grown up, my dreams must come from. . .where? A well-executed Business Plan?

I suppose that's part of the difficulty. The loss of my first dreams was also the loss of my innocence (or, you could say, naivete, or maybe even stupidity -- but that would be mean and we're not mean here. We are compassionate!).

Yes. My childhood dreams were spontaneous, true, uncalculated and beyond heartfelt.

If you consider the evolution of the soul (I'm thinking of Thea Selby here) or even what we call "maturity," upon what do new dreams rest?

Options for New Dreams

New dreams can rest upon "the cards that have been dealt" -- in other words, given current circumstances my dreams are to. . . .

Or they can rest upon "voting with my feet" -- as in, what I'm doing is an indicator of what I want and what I think is possible, which, thank God, is actually true! And, which makes me think, maybe I am living the dream, but dreams are hard to see when you are in them. Pleasant thought!

Or maybe you don't dream anymore and you live in the magic and poetry of the present moment, replacing dreams with goals and objectives. Or perhaps forgoing them altogether . . . (While goals and objectives sound kind of dull, "the magic and poetry of the present moment" holds promise. It definitely does :).)

A third possibility, after youthful dreams have died, lies in the idea of purpose. What is my purpose? No longer the lapdog of the white man, what is the purpose of my "one wild and precious life?"

Actually, the Mary Oliver poem asks, "what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

Maybe it's not a question, so much, of cards dealt, voting with my feet, goals, or even purpose.

Maybe now it's the simple recognition that my life is precious and I have choices.

What do You Think?

Readers, I'm at a stopping point. It's time to get your wisdom regarding new dreams or whether dreams are, at this point, relevant.