No five-year plan. No vision board. Not even a Pinterest folder titled ‘Boss Babe Energy.’
I don’t have a dream. At least, not anymore.
Once upon a time, I had plenty of them.
I dreamt of becoming the Barbie queen of a beautiful coconut island. Then I wanted to be a rockstar like Hannah Montana, right after wanting to be Kalpana Chawla. I even remember my Lady Sherlock Holmes era – curious, mysterious, and (atleast in my head) brilliantly intelligent.
And I could go on for hours.
Some of these dreams are almost achievable, like the Barbie Queen.
Anyway, as I grew older, my dreams started getting edited, not entirely by me, but by everyone around me.
I was taught to have better dreams, which could fit my reality.
And my parents, my friends, my friends’ boyfriends, and half my small-town neighbourhood suggested that I get out of my delusions and get a reality check.
Now I had a template series for my dreams. You would know it-
Get the high-paying job—awesome.
Then comes the next dream: the big promotion.
Then hike.
Before you know it, it’s time to switch companies, for bigger dreams, of course.
You find love, sweet. Next up: where is it going? When’s the wedding? Get a rice cooker? What about kids? Second kid? School admission?
And then the Template designing of their dreams.
It’s like a never-ending subscription service that you, just like half the population of the country, unknowingly signed up for.
And then someday, listening to a random podcast, you might think-
Is this even MY dream?
And that’s okay to feel a little uneasy about it. Right? After all, it’s not that bad; it’s realistic. It’s practical. It fits.
It’s just not the fun dream.
Why do we start trimming our dreams to fit the reality we’re handed?
By our 30s, dreams become… respectable goals. “Realistic.” “Achievable.”
Dreams that don’t scare anyone. Not even ourselves.
So, a woman in the peak of her corporate career, dreaming of leaving it all and starting a new business, is still a good dream. Ambitious but achievable.
But dreaming of ruling your own island as Queen of Coconut land? Suddenly, you need therapy.
But honestly?
Being delusional is way more fun than being practical.
So instead of a dream, I’m choosing delusion. A coconut-flavored one. It may never fit on a vision board, but it keeps me laughing, curious, and oddly thankful. And maybe that’s the point- to have better storylines in real lives 
So tell me, what are you being delusional about?
6 thoughts on “I don’t have a dream”
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