Becca Borawski’s Blog

I think about dreaming big.  I always have.  My parents taught me I could be anything I wanted to be and I believed them.  I have always gotten what I was truly after and I have always had wants and dreams floating in my head.

But sometimes I get caught up in fantasies.  They are different than dreams and wants, I think.  They pop into my head uninvited and not always do I recognize them.  I think they are real.  I think they are something to do, something to be attained.

A dream may be out of reach, but it is still based somewhat in truth.  It is a possible impossibility.  There is a texture to it and a weight.

A fantasy is a day dream, a story built on ignorance, a place with the luxury of the absence of truth.  That is what is so enticing — where my fantasy lacks truth, my brain fills in only the most desirable of possibilities.  And it is tricky and it knows me.  It makes me think it is real.

But sometimes I catch it out of the corner of my eye and I pause for a moment.  Is it fantasy?  Is this a dream, a road worth following, where I can actually feel the bricks beneath my feet?  Or is it a bridge to nowhere?  I think it is a dream and I chase it only to find myself on my knees, with nothing to show for it.

Do I build my dream on the truths around me — looking at what is rock solid and knowing that if what I truly crave is peace and contribution, freedom of expression and happiness, that no fantasy is needed.  Or do I put faith in the perfection of fantasy, trusting it may turn out to be real, and knowing that even if it does not I can be complete no matter where I find myself.

I think of myself on the beach, staring at the ocean.  I breathe in the salty morning air, feel the dew of the mist on my cheeks, and watch the pelicans skim the waves.  I feel the wet sand around my toes and think of dipping them into the water.  I know if I do the water will pull me into it and I will become one with this picture.  I will drown or set sail.  But, as I look I think it must be perfect and real.  It is everything I want.

Or is it everything I imagine?  Is it too perfect?  Maybe what is best is if I just stand here and breathe.  I taste the salt and wonder.