I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wrap my mind around the concept of time. It’s like you’re just doing you, living the dream, and you wake up one day (late for class) realizing that 15 years have gone by and life isn’t about chasing the ice cream truck, getting the Spiderman popsicle with the bubblegum eyes and begging your older sisters to play mermaids with you in the pool.
I wanted to be so many things when I was a youngling thinking about growing up. I remember writing down that I wanted to be a policeman in 1st grade because I didn’t know that a policewoman was a real thing (perceived gender role socialization at a young age, perhaps???). Who cared, though? I was a reckless kid with curled in front bangs that had a lifetime to really think about being an adult. I could also beat you in tetherball hands down so.. like I said, living the dream.
|rare home video of me in my childhood|
I’d like to think that most people have something that reminds them of home/their childhood. It might be a pair of old cleats, an old stuffed animal with the stuffing coming out, a birthday card from grams, a Backstreet Boys 1999 Millenium CD you stole from your sister at some point, etc etc (you get the idea). What is it about that representation of the past that means so much to a lot of us?
Boy band memorabilia aside, I have a dreamcatcher that I think is pretty nifty. My dad used to be a truck driver and would always bring us back presents, probably from dingy truck stops, but we loved them. I remember him telling us kids the meaning behind a dreamcatcher as we were sitting around him wide eyed with our majestic items he got for us no doubt from Pocahontas herself. I wasn’t able to sleep the first night it was hanging over my bed because I WAS SO EXCITED IT WAS GOING TO CATCH BAD DREAMZ. MY MIND WAS UNSTOPPABLE. GOOD VIBES ONLY.
The sun goes up and then goes down. Days happen. Interests change and some friends come and go. Your priorities change and you become more realistic about your future (what was i THINKING, POLICEMAN??) Does it ever kind of hit you? You’re growing up, you’re trying to get your act together, and some days you think about what happened to all of those years.
|ugh Wingapo, gimme inspiration plz|
I am now in my early twenties. There are no ice cream trucks to chase around here (although I should really consider investing in one in this college town wow idea of the year #patented). Courage the Cowardly Dog is on Netflix but it doesn’t give any frights anymore, just the creeps. I’ve got responsibilities, an education I’m really happy to be invested in, and no interest in becoming a police(wo)man.
If you’re ever around little kids, you’ll notice that they’re all probably stuffed with fairy dust or some other toxin that gives them the greatest outlook on life. Their imaginations are so expansive and slightly intimidating, especially when they show you up during bedtime stories. They never stop dreaming. Anything is possible for these kids.
|if you don't remember this episode you better believe I'm judging you|
At what age did that go away for us? When did we look out of the window (probably melodramatically with sad Kelly Clarkson playing) and stop pursuing our dreams? When did we become so complacent?
When did I stop believing in my dream catcher?
If you could have a conversation with the six year old you, what would you say? Would he/she be happy with who you are now and what you’re becoming? Would you take the offer and have a conversation face to face with yourself?
Honestly, I’d be so much like ~grandmother willow~ and mysterious it’d drive the young me off the wall. I’d probably just tie my six year old’s sketchers and simply tell her to always dream big and often, no matter how old she got, because the only way dreamcatchers stop working is if she stops dreaming at all.
My dad said so.
p.s. I am laughing so hard at this.
I love the internet.