For the past few weeks, I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night from dreams wherein I’m living on a country estate in the heart of an orchard where peaches and almonds grow. I am not sure what these dreams mean, though; all I know is that they are a source of hope and comfort for me at this point in my life when I feel burned out and lonely.
It has not helped that I have a colleague at work who, when asked a rhetorical question of whether or not I was being stupid for pursuing seemingly impossible hopes, told me point-blank that my dreams were worthless and that I should get used to the fact that I was worthless and doomed to live a pointless life, that I should give up my dreams of becoming a writer, that I should give up on marriage because I’m pushing 37 this year and no guy would want me, and that my dreams of moving abroad to work as a writer and/or open a cafe were pointless and impossible. She said that I ought to be as practical as she was, that I should stick to the mundane.
Honestly, if I were to doom myself to that, I’d rather take poison.
I took the day off from work yesterday to clear my head. My doctor worried about my burnout taking a turn for the worse at my last check-up, seeing how frustrated and weary I looked. I went to Mass, went to confession to unburden myself of the heartaches that have been rankling my soul. As I prayed, I wondered why people would go out of the way to dissuade others from following their dreams. It is a cruel thing to dishearten those who have been working so hard for their dreams and it speaks very ill of a person’s attitude: women, especially, end up being referred to as b*tches or wicked witches for raining on other people’s parades.
When I went home, I made up my mind never to listen to people who tell me off for dreaming big or who tell me I’m being an idiot for wanting seemingly impossible things. I don’t need that sort of negativity in my life at this point. I will pursue my dreams and I know in the deepest recesses of my heart that I will attain them one way or another. There is, of course, always hope.
I made a peach and almond float when I got home, capturing the aromas and tastes in my dreams. It is something that brings back some measure of positivity in me. I ate well of those soft peach slices, those wobbly cubes of almond jelly; savoring the nutty sweetness against the faintly tart fruit, the cold syrup. It soothed me, cooled me off, and helped after I cried my eyes out just to feel better.
I will take my cue from Banana Yoshimoto: whatever happens, I will continue to flow through life – and nothing (and, most especially no one) will get in my way.