The struggle between following your dreams and staying realistic

Remember how as children we were serenaded with stories that started with “once upon a time” and ended with “happily ever after”? Later in adulthood, we would recall those times as magical. While these extraordinary fairy tales gripped us emotionally and kept us spellbound, they performed another remarkable yet critical function: they assured us that everything was going to be fine in the end. Our takeaways (although we would not have used this clichéd corporate word then) were to be brave, take risks, pursue your dreams and lo and behold, your destiny shall be fulfilled.

It was a little wonder then, that I thought my life would be any different. Looking back, I realise that I made copious use of the phrase “One day such and such would happen”.  This phrase became a metaphorical symbol of my perceived idealistic and romantic future where all problems would be sorted out, a stack of drawers filled with good things would open and perpetual bliss would ensue. The best part about this was the all-encompassing role of destiny. I really had to do precious little and was only a supporting cast member.

The idealist in me hated sequels for the same reason. Why tamper with a movie, the characters, the storyline when everything had been laid to rest so well. As a coping mechanism, I used to inhabit a pretend world where the original story was left unchanged.

My imagination transcended traditional boundaries and sometimes the laws of physics (superhero stuff). I imagined that I could become that prolific sportsman, the versatile movie star, the seminal book author or the dynamic business tycoon. I only lived in the future. The present had no meaning or relevance for me. More notably, the present and the future felt disconnected and somehow existed independent of each other.

Fast forward to a different timeline – my ‘sequel’ seemed to be a box office disaster. As I found myself facing the real-world, there seemed to be a mismatch (putting it mildly) between expectations and reality. Initially, this confused me and I brushed it away. “Not possible”, I told myself. I was destined for great things and a happy ending was close by. This had to change. But it didn’t.

Screaming and kicking like an infant did not help.

Neither did playing victim – why does this happen to me syndrome?

As I struggled with this existential angst, I did what many of us do i.e. adopt our own definition of growing up. I became responsible, serious, practical and diligent. I told myself that dreams contain the trappings of fantasy and does not pay your bills. I further contemplated that while the pursuit of passion is a feel good construct it seems like a sole preserve of either the affluent, the foolhardy adventurer or the incredibly lucky. The consequent new me that emerged from this belief system provided a strong logical rationale and a huge pile of evidence (see how the majority of the world works) and I had my you had me at hello moment.

The dreamer within me started to shut down, and slowly but surely the associated voices became fainter. I was losing touch with this part of me. Now and then I became conscious of the dreamer in the remote corners of my mind when I watched tearfully the happy endings of movies; living vicariously the trials and the unusual triumph of the underdog. But the dreamer would vanish soon after I came out of the theatre. My fantasy and reality were two parallel worlds neatly compartmentalised and never to be blended.

Conventional success followed and certainly got me some things I was craving for – mostly material aspects. But it felt incomplete, disorienting and even confusing at times.

It took some kind of a mid-life crisis to realise a simple truth – who I am (all the parts of me including the dreamer) may need to be inextricably linked to what I do. I had suppressed the inner child in the pursuit of conventional success, and a need for security, structure and control. This child had a lot to offer and was screaming to be let out. But I was afraid to, lest he should threaten the survival of the things I considered sacred.

And then it finally happened after years of agony. I opened the door. At first, the child was hesitant to come out, he was so used to darkness. When he was finally out, I realised how much I had missed him. This child led me back to the world of imagination and creativity – where it is ok to dream and not be afraid. I came to the realisation (albeit painfully) that dreams and idealism can coexist with my reality and that the resultant combination can be something very unique.

Dreaming was never the problem. It was the way I chose to engage with my dreams. Without this engagement dreams remain fantasies.

Dreaming was easy but the follow-through was difficult. As a child, dreaming comforted me; it presented an escape from my unpleasant experience of the present; and transported me to lala land. But when the future finally arrived, I was neither ready nor equipped to engage with my dreams. I took the convenience track and followed the path of least resistance. In the process, I had banished the whole thing from my life.

I could have acknowledged my dream rather than deny it. I could have plucked up the courage to engage with it deeply rather than frivolously. I could have been prepared to traverse the path rather than turn away completely. I could have considered what I stood to gain as much as I focussed on avoiding loss.

It is not necessary that we have to quit our jobs or throw caution to the winds in order to embrace our dreams. It is probably enough to get started, engage and dabble with it and accord it some place in our life even if it is relatively small. Soon the fog may clear and the rest of the path may reveal itself. The hardest part is to trust ourselves, especially considering the allure of the safe and the familiar.

Pursuit (or shall we say engagement) when it comes to dreams may be difficult, scary and confusing but it is essential, in my view, to feel complete. In the end it always boils down to how we lived as opposed to what we conquered. Developmental Psychologist Erik Erikson says that the final stage in our lives is characterised by either integrity or despair. When we experience integrity, we look back on our life not just with a sense of accomplishment but also fulfilment, acceptance, lack of regret and a sense of wholeness. When experiencing despair, we feel a sense of regret, hopelessness and a life wasted or misspent.

To paraphrase Victor Frankl – Happiness cannot be pursued, it must ensue as an unintended side effect of one’s personal dedication to a cause greater than oneself. Dreams can be like that.

I have learnt that fulfilment is not determined by results alone. They are certainly not defined, by the degree of control and security I feel over key aspects of my life. They are largely characterised by the journey I choose to undertake and where gratification is deeply linked to the commitment, energy, passion and excitement I bring to it. Such a journey also makes allowances for reality to blend in with your dreams, and where reality and dreams are not dichotomous poles.

My life may not be a fairy tale and not all my stories will have happy endings. In fact, none of them will ever have a happily ever after ending. 

And, I am finally ok with it.