Today I want to talk a little bit about dreams. I know it’s a little bit off topic but I am a narcisstic blogger who likes to think I am both wise and interesting (and therefore surely neither).

But I digress.

Dreams. A lot of genuinely wise people have a lot to say about their potency. Martin Luther King had a dream that was the precursor to Barack Obama’s presidency. The Lumiere Brothers dreamt of moving pictures when the Wright brothers were dreaming of flight. Combined, these two dreams have made an enormous difference to the way we see the world.

Sometimes – and I think this is normal – we all start to doubt ourselves. Maybe our dreams are futile; frivolous? Maybe we should just knuckle down and accept that we are just mindless cogs in an economic wheel, born to fill our days with meaningless, income-generating activity?

This thought fills me with a sense of blank despair – I don’t want to live that way.

So I choose dreams. Crazy, wild, half-assed schemes that probably won’t work but dammit, I am going to give them a go.

There is nothing scarier to me than a life lived timidly.

Here is what Ezra Pound had to say about it:

‘And the days are not full enough

And the nights are not full enough

And life slips by like a field mouse

Not shaking the grass.’

Tell me, my lovelies, what do you dream of doing? Climbing Kilimanjaro? Writing a novel? Getting a tattoo? Share your dreams because the process of writing them down is the start of committing to them!