It seems to me that people tend to believe that only children can achieve dreams. Now, it’s hard to say whether they wholeheartedly believe this or if it’s just a simple correlation people make- kinda like Santa Claus and Christmas. The former isn’t real but the way everyone talks about Santa makes children believe that he is. Now, dreams are more real than Santa can ever be, but I’m wondering do we as adults really believe this?

When we were children we can all remember how important our dreams were. Everyone wanted to know what we wanted to be when we grew up and the answers would spit out of our mouths like raindrops: I want to be a doctor, an astronaut, a pilot, a teacher, the list goes on. Our parents got excited because we had these big dreams, and they would walk around town bragging, “Look, my daughter is going to be a doctor!”. If we talked about going to the Olympics for swimming, they would do whatever they could to support our dreams; if it meant dropping us and picking us up from our swimming practices, they would do just that. No matter what it was, it was never out of our reach; and our parents would always be there for us. But as we got older, it seems to me that our childhood dreams suffocated.

By the time, we approach our twenties and later years, we can’t dream the way we did when we were children. Now, we have to be more realistic. We have to go for the jobs that everyone else is going for, because now we have to make a living. We can’t tell people that we’re going to have a mansion anymore because it’s not realistic enough. It’s hard for me to disclose my inner dreams, my desires, fantasies because to everyone else it’s a joke, “dreams are for kids”. I used to dream about traveling, and about being a flight attendant. I’d think about spending my nights in different countries, and long days in planes. I’d picture myself wearing the uniform with the cute little bow around my neck and having to carry my matching suitcase everywhere. But one day when I was in my teenage years, an adult kindly revealed to me that a flight attendant is nothing but a waitress on the plane, who is going to get ugly someday and no one will want to hire her. What a revelation?!

In my dream world, I only pictured the benefits and the excitement that such a job would bring me. And what’s wrong with that? This adult popped my bubble and after more than a decade, I can still recall how my eyes were opened at the truth. “She really is a waitress on the plane,” but in my teenage mind, I esteemed the job because of what it was about: serving people and traveling everywhere. I never thought that being a waitress in society would not be as esteemed as other respected career choices. But, that dream suffocated because I never gave it much thought after that.

The truth is dreams only mean something to the person who dreams it. To the child, it means a great deal. It’s a reason to get up in the mornings, it’s a reason to keep smiling, and it’s a reason to look forward to adulthood. Having dreams give us hope and it increases our faith. Maybe our dreams should not be disclosed to the outside world, or maybe we should be twice as vigilant about who we reveal our dreams to; because every dream after disclosure always seem to meet a disapproving audience- no matter how interesting it sounds.

Now I’m in my twenties and I’m starting to wonder: Are my dreams going to be a reality? Will I one day go to the Olympics, maybe become a flight attendant? Will I travel the world? Or possibly write a book? I guess I can be the only person who will ever have the motivation to make any of my dreams real. So, why do I listen to others around me when they make negative comments about the impossibility of my dreams? Dreaming is not only for kids, it’s for anyone that’s alive. Dreams are like flowers. Even when you don’t see it blooming on the outside, something is always happening on the inside. One day, the growth will become visible; so that the world can see the blossoms.