What Happens To A Dream Deferred?

Vocal stylings courtesy of Solange...

I have had an avid imagination for as long as I can remember. I spent a lot of time as a child dreaming up vivid stories about my barbies, my future, my superpower.... you name it.

I always dreamt that I would be rich. I’m talking, swipe my card and never have to think about it again, wealthy. It was never clear how I got that way — I just was.

Around my teenage years, when life became a bit more angsty and I felt frustrated, I would close my eyes and visualize my ideal life... far away on an island where no one would ever find me or know my name.

That dream has stuck with me for many, many years.

At some point, I started to dream that I could exist in the world just outside of plain sight. This dream caused me to hate social media. I hated social settings. I tried to keep everything about myself to myself.

Needless to say, that’s not the most ideal way to live. Especially considering that there was also a part of me dreaming simultaneously about how to share and be more open.

The thing is — when I tried to be open, I regretted it. This could have been because of who I chose to be open with, or what I chose to be open about, but either way — the experiences did not help my internal dilemma. Rather than trying to resolve the competing dreams I had — I just stopped dreaming altogether (affirmatively giving into the enemy).

Something I had once used a coping mechanism became a hindrance when I was overcome with fear. I was so afraid of my real dreams, my aspirations, my hopes. So I set out to live on the fringe of existence because I couldn’t bear to say what I wanted out loud, let alone pursue it. I didn’t feel I could be open, and the dreams felt so heavy a burden, I decided to just stop.

I’m sure there is a clinical term for this somewhere, but I’m going to call it “dream killing.”

This proved to be an interesting time period in my life. It seemed like when I stopped trying to live my dreams, I became hyper-aware of those around me living theirs. It made me so incredibly happy to dream for others that I started to take personal offense when my dream for someone else was different from the dream they had for themselves.

Does that seem weird? I think so. I’ll try and break it down:

...

Sheila* (not a real person) has a dream.

Sheila shares her dream with me.

My mind begins to visualize Shiela’s dream.

I immediately dream of an ideal scenario where Shiela’s dream comes true.

Shiela begins to pursue her dream.

Shiela’s pursuit looks different from my dream for Sheila.

I am …… instantly confused.

...

Now, I realize that this line of dreaming helps literally no one. I also realize that it was my way of cheating the system. I latched onto the dreams of others so that I did not have to fear my own.

Bringing me to a few months ago, when I offered to help actualize someone else's dream. I had a vision for how we’d make it happen and my vision was rejected. I brimmed with annoyance. (It was probably palpable too, and it was not the first time either.)

I knew that my annoyance was misplaced and really weird. So I did what I always do: I sat down and processed the emotions I was experiencing. From that, I realized that I was so annoyed about someone else’s dream but I barely had one of my own!

I watched this sermon about a month ago, (Girl, get up) and by the end, I felt something inside me get up. The Holy Spirit quite literally awoke the dreamer in me that was once dead.

It was so necessary. For quite some time, my spirit felt broken. Nothing invigorated me. In every area of my life, I lacked vision, conviction, and passion. My dreams had not only helped me form some of my best ideas as a child but they also stirred in me a strong conviction to realize them. I think when I lost sight of that, I also lost some of my inner vitality.

I have not fought for a dream in so long. Adulthood zapped me of my idealism. The voice in my head grew louder and louder and told me that I could not do what I dreamt and I could never be who I hoped. I believed it and subsequently spent years believing and burying my dreams so deep inside myself that I forgot what they were.

But by the grace of God, the dreamer in me got up! I heard the call, and The Lord breathed life into the scattered bones that once were my dreams. Just like that, they came alive again.

Thank you Jesus!

The goal now is to keep the dreams alive! God, what should I do next?

That question sat in my brain for a few days until God answered me with a devotional series aptly named Dream Big. For 7 days I woke up and read the plan each morning. Every single day that week, I felt more and more inspired. So much so that I went ahead and ordered the book from Amazon at 8:30 am on day 6. By the grace of God, it was on my doorstep by 3 pm that same day.

Glory to God!!!

I feel it in my spirit that my breakthrough is between the Bible, this book, and me.

I know that my dreams will become my reality, as surely as the Bible says "my word that goes out from my mouth: it will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it." (Isaiah 55:11).

Sometimes a dream is sent for a purpose.

Sometimes your dreams are sent for your purpose.

I always loved Langston's Hughes Harlem. I can help but think of it now...

To be continued.