The Dream Machine

A call late last night, jarred not only my sleep, but also my peace of mind- which is usually a state of blissful ignorance. This friend, (from now on referred to as Ms. Dawson) decided that 3.45 am was the ideal time to bring up the scary and distant future. I was listening to Dramamine and dreaming of standing on a cliff, rocks below me, the sea spread out like a blanket ahead of me and light streaming from the stars above me; an absence of vertigo. I can feel it, my dream was just about to get interesting...suddenly the space near my arm starts vibrating and Oren Lavie sings out of my phone. And then the most dreadful conversation began. Ms. Dawson seemed to be having a major quarter life crisis and she was happily dragging me into her hell. Her crisis was instigated by a trip down memory lane. And as she spoke about it, I felt myself falling deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole...Peking Pecker!, I thought. This is only going to be unpleasant.

Ms. Dawson and I met in the 1st grade, but our journey really began in the 8th. When she entered class on the first day, I apparently told her that the place beside me was taken. A few days later our class teacher made us partners. The class teacher that brought us together was essentially the one who tore us apart. Bitch! Once we became partners, we realised our fathers went to the same boarding school and we knew right then and there that we were meant to be friends forever. We also found we had lots in common, the most promising of the commonalities being, our love for boy-bands and hollywood celebrities. We made lists and lists of all those gorgeous men that made our hearts flutter. We loved LDC with an unrivaled passion. We made plans of studying in university abroad, joining a sorority, finding our perfect pretty boys, sharing an apartment in New York City. Ms. Dawson would become a Grammy winning singer and I would be Hollywood's new shining star. Those were our dreams, however unrealistic people thought they were. We believed they would be a reality one day. And how we believed!

Looking back now, Ms. D and I realized our mistake. We stopped at the believing. Never did anything about making our dreams come true. We could've had it all- the university, the sorority, who knows maybe even a Grammy and an Oscar. But we stopped at the believing. Perhaps, one of my only regrets to date. At 13, I had imagined a totally different life for myself and got something else instead. On my 25th birthday, I imagined a certain future for myself and my biggest fear now is getting the 'something else' instead. It's scary...Stephen King scary!

Goosebumps was the next topic of discussion. The both of us have been big time believers of goosebumps and butterflies fluttering in the stomach. We wondered when the time for goosebumps runs out. When do you stop feeling them? What if you'll never be with the only person who gave you those butterflies? Or do these butterflies find their way into your stomach as a side effect of lust? These questions remained unanswered, but the both of us found that we wanted to keep a special place in our tummies for these butterflies to breed for as long as we lived. A life without butterflies; a world without butterflies, is unpretty and gloomy. (Readers- If you have answers to the above questions, please feel free to share).

Ms. Dawson and I, always the optimisits, figured that, even though our teenage selves didn't get what they imagined; our 25 year old selves certainly could. We hurriedly made more plans, built fortresses in the air, promised each other that we would do more than just believing.

Life is scary and unpredictable. And Imagination is a handy little umbrella that helps you weather the storm. And dreams...Dreams are a realization of aspirations. All I plan to do now, is make it happen. I will continue to dream, but with my eyes open this time, watching it all become a reality.