There once was a woman in my life who would debate and discuss the biggest and most minute details of my life. And were she in the room with me she would shake her head, wag her finger and then roll her eyes at this description. It wouldn’t surprise me if we’d get into a long talk about which one of us is/was crazier and whose philosophy of life makes more sense.
But that is what happens when you deal with the short and illogical half of the species, the ones that by virtue of gender are reality challenged. For those keeping score I have taken more than one and less than ten swipes at her, but they are all done with love and a smile on my face. Not to mention an iTunes soundtrack in the background.
Anyhoo, the paragraphs above do relate to the post because the theme here is about dreams of the past, dreams of the present and dreams of the future.
Dreams of the past refers to lost loves. Not every lost love is about a relationship between a boy and a girl. Some of them tie into hobbies or activities that we used to engage in on a regular basis. For example, I used to spend about two hours a day in the gym. I loved it and wish that life would give me the opportunity to do it again.
In respect to this post I sometimes find myself thinking about Jerusalem, memories of a time and a place that has never left me. Memories that extend from being a teenager into my married life. Faces, places and names float through the sky and a feeling that I can’t possibly describe as anything but love comes over me.
I can give you a list of reasons why. I can tell you about the advantages that speaking multiple languages present, how a person can describe events and experiences differently in each language. I can talk about the sadness/frustration about losing your ability to effectively communicate in a different tongue.
Or I can talk about how I was certain that I was going to make aliyah and discussions I had about what it would be like in the army. But while some of these discussions make good blog fodder and could be interesting, I am not interested in going over that now.
That dream has passed and I won’t ever know what it would have meant to my life. A twenty something American has different dreams and different possibilities than a kid who just turned forty.
But the thing is that though some dreams may pass it doesn’t mean that we have to lay down and die or that it should kill other dreams. It doesn’t mean that one day I won’t find myself living in Israel or that I won’t find myself living out other dreams.
I can’t say what will happen in ten years or in five. It is hard to predict what will happen in two. So for now I am focused on my plan and doing all that is within my power to make it happen. In the interim there are a lot of chances to visit those dreams, to touch upon them and get a reminder of the reasons we chase them.
Part of what drives and enables me to get out of the bed is the knowledge that I can still live my dreams. I don’t have to give up on everything. I don’t have to accept a life that is less than what I dream it can be.
I don’t and I won’t.
Jerusalem is calling and so are my other dreams. All I need to do is figure out how to make them into something more than a gleam in my eye.