What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore–And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over–like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
That is the question I fell asleep thinking about last night. As we grow older, inevitably we distance ourselves from certain youthful ambitions and embrace others, born from opportunity, new information, bargaining with the self (Just get me out of this restaurant and I’ll do anything!) So what happens to the dreams of childhood? Of adolescence? Of the promises I made myself at 23 that I would never be like this or knuckle under to that? Often, we laugh those dreams away, mocking our youthful self as naive and pie in the sky gullible.
-Something like this-
If I had known how the world truly works of course I would have chosen to sit in a fucking office all day and immerse myself in petty politics. I mean really, who wants to float the Mississippi river like Huckleberry and Jim? Who wants to play on the PGA Tour? Those guys look stressed to me, much better to file that 147 in the 231A and try to beat those bastards in Accounts Receivable to the cafeteria.
I take no issue with the failure to achieve the dreams of childhood. I take issue with pretending they were not, or less, important than they are.
You can’t explain away a dream.
once an aspiring professional breakdancer & future novelist.
current catcher of children running through the rye.