"Chasing the dream?" he mildly snickered.
"Living the dream," I announced.
He didn't know how to respond, blurting out some kind of inquisitive affirmation like, "Whoa!? Really?!
"Yep, sure am." My mind flashed back through all the years of desperate longing, waiting to be living my actual dream."
I saw moments that looked exactly like my dream -- me doing the amazing things I always wanted to do. And, in the same brilliant flash, I also saw the many times I felt so angry at God for giving up on me and my dreams. The camera pulls back to show the whole scenery. I'm revealed to myself at least. I've been living on a strange roller-coaster of unrequited desire and exuberant fulfillment. And wondering why the middle ground feels so empty.
How many people do you know who are actually "living the dream"? The phrase "chasing the dream" makes me think about the greyhounds on the racetrack, chasing after the fake bunny on a stick that always runs faster than the dogs can. Is my dream running faster than am I? Is it something to catch, to capture and devour, as those dogs might be thinking they'd do if ever they caught the dang thing?
I believe I moved to Nashville propelled by a dream -- something out there, something beyond where I was living. It was a desire to make something out of my life. I didn't want to just settle for being, for just living. I wanted to strive and reach for what I was optimistically certain was out there. And honestly, it boils down to this: I desired to have a life of influence. And to have that, I thought I needed to have some sort of platform, some kind of audience who would allow themselves to be influenced by my remarkableness. My amazingness. My influencity (that sounds too much like influenza!).
Fortunately, in retrospect, I can see that I had missed the mark. I thought: PLATFORM=INFLUENCE=SIGNIFICANCE. That isn't completely wrong. It's just that I thought PLATFORM would look like a big stage somewhere with a lot of people paying to come see me sing -- that's when I'd truly be significant. So I kept trying, and waiting, and hoping, and praying, and crying, and screaming, and wondering when I'd ever get that dang platform I thought I needed in order to live the life I was supposed to be living.
Then I woke up. And realized I had a platform.
It's called My Life.
It was like I had been sleeping for a crazy long time and finally woke up. Rip Van Smebywinkle. More accurately, I had been so distracted by my longing for my platform to look like someone else's...you know, someone superfamous...that I couldn't see how my platform was actually supposed to be my own -- incredibly unique, designed specifically for me and my gifts and abilities -- and I had been standing in the middle of it for quite a while. I woke up and found myself on the platform of my dreams.
I'm a little embarrassed writing all this, because I think I sound so stupid and immature. But it's been such a profound awakening for me, I can't help but think talking about this might help some other distracted, sleeping person wake up and see the incredible place they are in right now.
I am living the dream. I have been for quite a while. And I almost slept right through it.
