Learning to Dream Again, One Desire at a Time

Photo by Chris Czermak on Unsplash

At some point along the way, I stopped allowing myself to dream. I stopped allowing myself to notice my desires and wants. And if they did surface in my mind, I definitely wasn’t voicing them to others.

I know, I know, there’s a lot of uncovering to be done there. And I am doing that work. But that’s not the focus here. While I’m beginning to understand the “why” behind it, what I want to communicate today is about learning from the present to inform my future.

So, I’m starting to write down the big things. But I’m also paying attention to the small things, the moments during my day when I desire something. It might be wanting another cup of coffee, or the desire to go to bed early, even though everyone else is staying up late, and I struggle with some serious FOMO, the fear of missing out on life’s smaller moments. It might be turning the volume up loud and listening to music I love, or even deciding what I want to eat for dinner.

Sometimes, I honor those desires. Other times, I just notice them. And as I notice, I realize I have more choice than I thought. More agency than I realized.

But I’m also experimenting with the bigger desires, the ones that seem impossible. And the work for me, with these, is to give voice to them. To say them out loud to someone else. This might sound strange, but it’s terrifying to me.

I worry that my dreams are either too big or not big enough. Or that I’ll get the “who do I think I am?” look. I’m afraid of letting myself down by not making them happen. Or that I’ll be seen as selfish, and something bad will happen as a result. The list of fears could go on and on.

But this week, I did the terrifying thing: I told someone one of my dreams. As the words left my mouth, I felt like a bumbling fool. I wanted to take them back. But the person I shared them with listened and asked some great questions, mostly just listening because they knew that’s what I needed.

The 12 hours after that? I had a major vulnerability hangover. But there was also a lightness. It was like the hard part, voicing it, was over. Now, the fun part is seeing what unfolds. I’m also getting clearer on what that vision actually looks like (and that’s one of the benefits of sharing it with another coach; they ask really good questions).

As a coach, I want to be transparent: I don’t have it all figured out either. I’m doing my own inner work because I know it impacts how I show up for others. This journey is ongoing, and I’m committed to it. So, I’m going to keep dreaming, big and small.