I wonder about my dreams. And not about the dreams I have when I’m sleeping at night. I wonder about the “fond hopes” I carry within my heart. And fond they are. And deep they are. And yet, how futile they seem too. How distant and dormant do they burrow themselves within my being.
And I wonder how to unlock them? How do I open their eyes and look at them without feeling sadness within? How do I begin to nurture and care for them as babies without fearing that I will lose them as I have lost so many dreams before?
Dreams feel sometimes as close as your skin. They are warm and soft and a part of your being. They free you to expose yourself to the world, to soak in the sunshine, to resist the elements of rain, dirt and wind. They make you want to live and risk and love. And yet, dreams can be pierced, wounded. They can cause the insides of you to bleed and ache. Dreams are so vulnerable.
I fear that by unlocking these dreams, by exposing them to air, I will ultimately fail them. I will ultimately not know how to nurture them, how to care for them. Why is fear such a strong lock? How can fear weave and wrap itself around everything that is true and real and make it seem like a mirage, like something that does not exist nor will ever exist?
I wonder if living ones dreams is far less of an arrival point as it is a course. I wonder if my dreams haven’t already been unlocked. I think they have. And I think I am nurturing them. It’s just not exactly in the way that I had expected caring for them would look like.
Maybe I didn’t think they really would be as close as my skin. I didn’t think they would be so vulnerable. So easily wounded and affected by the elements of life: Of relationships, of experiences, of living and breathing on this side of Eternity.
Solomon had a way of wording these realities so poignantly:
There is a time for everything…
I have seen the burden God has laid on men.
He has made everything beautiful in it’s time.
He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; and yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.
~ Ecclesiastes 3:1-11
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The child, a small boy with brown skin and dark eyes, began to circle around Peter. He took Peter's hands and placed them in his. He brought Peter to his knees, level with his tiny frame. The boy began to press his hands to Peter's face, smoothing weary lines and looking deeply into his eyes. Finaly, the boy's eyes grow large as he says, "Oh, there you are Peter!" -Hook
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