Don't Dream It's Over By: Karen Pilarski

New York City

A dream is difficult to let go. Langston Hughes deliciously delivers the message in the poem "A Dream Deferred"  A dream put off slowly decomposes until nothing is left.

A vision of the life once wanted was juicy and tasty. Now the dream as Hughes put it "sags like a heavy load."

I held a social media poll on what dreams people have had and why did they let it go. Here are some of the responses.

• "To be a rock star- I can't sing."
• "Play volleyball in college-Didn't have the confidence at the time."
•  "Becoming a psychologist with a p.h.d who does research and write a book on it. Too much school and not enough support."
• "Be a teacher-The politics that went along with it."
• "Majoring in theater in college- just couldn't bring myself to do it as a career and never know when I'd have a paycheck."
• "Having a horse again. I love horses and was lucky enough to take riding lessons as a kid and later own horses. But it won't happen again--I'm not going to be able to live in the country where I can keep a horse, and I don't want to be a part time owner who boards her horse and only sees it once in a while. So that dream is over."
• "Acting-The time it required just didn’t fit my lifestyle at the time unfortunately."

Most of the responses centered on a career or hobby. I have several dreams I don't want to let go. I once thought I had to give up the thought of ever living in a house. Happenstance intervened and my husband and I now are renting a beautiful home.

It wasn't exactly what we had been hoping for, meaning owning. However, it feels good to have a place of our own without noisy upstairs neighbors and kids jumping up and down.

When I was younger I wanted to be a teacher. I became a daycare teacher and hoped to go to school to earn a degree in education. The stress of the germs, tantrums, biting, bed wetting was just too much.

Constant mind numbing migraines ended the dream. I still adore kids but not ten ankle biters at one time. 

It is strange how ending a dream is reborn into another. Always poetic and having a way with words, I rediscovered my love of writing. I have been published and blogging is a new obsession. It is funny how things work out.

Dreams are what people put into them. Does a dream ever really truly die?

 I hold onto the hope of one day experiencing pregnancy and birthing a child. There is no choice but to put the dream on hold.

It is not for the lack of wanting. Insurance mandates are not generous where I live, my husband and I are not wealthy. It feels like the baby plan is out in the sun, baking and spoiling. My age certainly isn't shading it from the sun's burning rays.

Another dream is living in New York as a writer. I've had that yearning well before Sarah Jessica Parker's "Carrie" strutted around in her glitzy Manolos.

The cost of living, and job competitiveness are deterrents. I watch YouTube videos of people in their cramped tight living quarters. What they pay to live in a shoe box is unfairly astronomical.

I hear stories on the news of how high rent is and the space shortage. If someone could tell me how they make a go there, maybe I would feel differently. Despite a less than ideal living arrangement, I would still love to be a resident of the big apple.

Hughes asks in the end of his poem if the dream 'explodes.' The electricity within me refuses to allow for my passions to dim or die in a fiery demise.

I'm wired to work hard for what I want. In my mind, some fragment of the dream can come true, if proper care is taken. If not, then maybe I just don't want it enough to realize the dream for now.

Twisty, colorful wires uncrossed to help the head feel better
Sparks of electricity zaps the skull in an assault
A negative remark stabs, burns like a bee’s stinger
Pasted smile so the somber mood is not caught

Bashful and timid, not wanting to pester
Temporary solitude is no one’s fault
Lock of straight hair twisted tightly in a curl around a finger
Bleeding lower lip bitten in nervous thought
Foot taping in a repetitious movement

A desire to air emotions to avoid them from festering
Attempting to unlock the brain’s vault
Throat cleared loudly to clear the dryness that lingers
Staring off somewhere in space, a quick delicious jaunt
Quiet escape from the busy mind’s confinement
Makes me feel better. -Wired by Karen Pilarski