Of course, there are perennials that come back every season without the need for replanting. Peonies, hydrangeas, roses, and my beloved stargazer lily rebloom at the roots; having everything they need to rise like buried dreams, suddenly remembered.
What is it about our dreams that keep coming back to us? Begging us for water to drink, air to breathe, and sunlight to soak in: ingredients to alchemize energy into oxygen – that sweet airy elixir that fills your lungs and pumps your heart. Dreams keep us alive, but only if we nurture their nature.
There is a reason you rallied your high school friends to do calculus homework at Panera after school; that you always joke with your brother, closest friends, and co-workers, wherever you are, that you should write a pilot together (about a coffee shop, events and partnerships, corporate innovation, trade shows, etc.); that you took improv and acting classes in DC; that you are awe-struck by how Ava DuVernay has redesigned a more equitable Hollywood; that you get fired up so easily at the lack of female representation in film (writing, directing, producing) and the stories that are being told about leads on screen; that you are fascinated how the Beatles made their Let it Be album; that you are endlessly curious for how things are made; how you fall in love with how people work together; and how heartbroken you feel when they don’t; the way you weep during standing ovations.
I have planted these seeds everywhere I have lived, tending to a dream that has always felt so far away partly because I have always been doing something else: sports, work, grad school, work, grad school again, teaching, work, adventure.
It’s possible to not recognize the dream even when it comes back, every time, or the way you have unconsciously nurtured it all these years. And now it is obvious and undeniable – the way you desire to be – and you are so close.
Inspired Scribble 