I sometimes wonder what happened to my childhood dreams.
I can remember being a child and living (and re-living) the most elaborate fantasies about what my future would be. I would go to the moon. I would build and fly an aerospace plane (though I didn't call it that then). I would go into politics and run for President. I would fight battles and win. I would fight battles and lose, but the losing would matter. These were the things that were with me as I would drift off to sleep at night.
I'm beginning wonder where that quality went. My reach is so much more practical and more rooted in the ordinary these days. One day I'll own a house or a better car or be able to take vacations to wonderful places in Europe. I find myself wondering where the fantastic qualities of my imagination went, and whether or not losing them was a bad thing.
It is true that I'm already living out a number of my dreams. In other ways, my life has taken curious and unexpected turns that I never saw coming. I've walked toward the horizon a couple times just to see what's there, and found that I liked what I saw.
At the same time though, I'd still like to hang on to the part of me that can go to sleep and imagine what it would be like to walk on Mars. Or discover an ancient civilization. Or be an amazing acrobat. I think it's important because we don't live so much as settle if there aren't a few outlandish dreams in a quiet place inside us.
on 2003-03-04 at 10:44 p.m.
The Wayback Machine - To Infinity And Beyond