Who am I to Dream?

I am at that point in my life where I am about to finally (gasp) step into the other side of the future. The future, up until now, meant after graduation. I am now in my second to last semester of school and my mind tells me that I need a new perspective of what the future would mean because I can almost taste what was my future. Like most people, I have dreams -probably because dreams give me a reason to look forward to the future; but could also be because I want people to see that I take my life seriously, I mean, everywhere I look I am surrounded by motivational speakers and books which tell me to dream big and this will propel me to a life of purpose(!)

When I was in standard seven, during a routine check from the Ministry of Education, the officer was fascinated by how lively our science class was. So at the end of the class, he decided to give us 'a word of encouragement.' He launched to the very unoriginal speech of how we as young kids were capable of everything we set our minds to and how we were the leaders of tomorrow. At that, he asked us who would like to be the president of Kenya. Out of the 46 of us, no one raised their hand, to his utter disappointment. He looked at us incredulously and repeated the question, and again to his disappointment, no one raised their hand. Later on that day, our class teacher came to talk to us about how disappointed she was that no one in class wanted to be the president. I mentally rolled my eyes as she continued with her monologue of how we should dream big, see ourselves as leading the country, and how it would bring her great pleasure to be a former teacher of a future president.

That little incident has always been at the back of my mind throughout the years I have been growing, changing and redesigning my dreams. I like listening to other people talk about their dreams. To gauge if they are passionate about the life they envision, and to predict the possibility of the realization of these dreams with regards to their life right now and their level of enthusiasm about the said dream. I think the line between dreams and fantasies is very thin and faint, unnoticeable to the people who don't look carefully. Fantasies are great, and in unguarded moments, I like to indulge. Dreams on the other hand require me to be realistic. But again, in moments of despair, I wonder if James Morrison was right in the song from which this post gets its title from when he said that dreams are for fools, they let you down. In these desperate moments, I don't see a bleak future. Rather, I see myself building walls around me that would withstand any amount of disappointment. In short, I prepare for when life's sometimes grim realities finally catch up with my perfect dreams. By preparing, I mean discarding my dreams for a little while because we know that's the safest way to avoid disappointment.

So, back to my present situation, even with the knowledge that some dreams don't come true, I can't help it. I am a hopeless dreamer. I am about to enter what people call the real world, whatever that may mean. My thoughts lately revolve around which companies I should send my CV to and what is like to plan my life outside of years characterised by semesters. I am anxious to enter this world, with equal part zeal and equal part fear. I feel ready to face this changes, but then who will I be after a lifetime of being a student? This feels like a point of transition, where my dreams should shift to reflect the person I am becoming. But I don't know that person (yet).

The title of this post is from the song Wonderful World by James Morrison.

The Moon Don't Hang Quite as High as it Used to

I saw the moon last night. That I am sure. Why, I had the lyrics ''She swears the moon don't hang quite as high as it used to'' from Matchbox Twenty's 3 am on my mind the whole night yesterday and the whole day today. So I am sitting by the window to look at the moon only that I can't see it. As I sit here, I remember the book The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros. In explaining her name, Esperanza says that she was named after her great grandmother. She, like her great grandmother was born in the Chinese year of the horse. This is apparently bad luck if you are female, because the females born in the year of the horse are strong. And in both the Chinese and Mexican cultures, strong women are not encouraged. Esperanza, the great grandmother, was a wild horse woman who wouldn't marry until a sack was thrown over her head by the great grandfather and was carried away. She did not forgive him and for the rest of her life, she looked out the window. Esperanza compares her great grandmother's looking out the window to how many women sit their sadness on an elbow. Esperanza is fine with inheriting her great grandmother's name but she doesn't want to inherit her place by the window.

I shudder just by thinking about the book. Because I am looking out the window just like, I am assuming, Esperanza did. I guess looking out the window at this other side of midnight is a little sad and lonely. That thought is a little bit disquieting, so I ask myself, what really is it that I am looking for. I tell myself that the wanting to see the moon is just an excuse my conscious self wants to believe and my subconscious is hiding the real reason. So I stare. The wind is blowing softly. This, I deduce from the fact that I see the leaves moving slowly, back and forth, back and forth, then a little more violently, then back to its slow rhythm. It's fascinating. It is quiet. Deathly quiet. I like it.

Esperanza may have been looking out the window hating how her life turned out. But I am looking out the window finding peace in my aloneness thinking I should sit here daily instead of every other day and knowing that beyond the horizon, beyond this tiny spot on the globe, the sun is rising.

The title of this post is from the song 3 AM by Matchbox Twenty.