The Death of a Dream

Do you remember your childhood dreams? Mine included a Cabbage Patch doll for Christmas and getting permission to ride my bicycle to school. I also had a few more serious dreams, like hoping my parents would get back together rather than file for divorce.

We all have dreams, but what happens when those dreams die or are cut short? Instead of an authentic Cabbage Patch doll, I got the homemade version cleverly constructed of my grandmother’s pantyhose. Instead of getting to ride my bicycle to school, I was grounded from it for disobeying. And rather than reconciling, my parents moved on to new relationships.

While most of my childhood dreams seem trivial now, the death of those dreams unfortunately taught me to dream less. As I got older, my dreams became tainted by the fear of reality. Only on a few rare occasions have I allowed myself the luxury of dreaming big.

Continue reading my guest post for Her.meneutics here…

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