Dream Bigger
Dreams — big, small and perverse
In the foyer of the Oxford House, where I have lived for a month, sits a cork board upon which dozens of small pieces of paper have been pinned. Every person who visited during that month was asked to write down his or her dream and attach it to the board, under the belief that the best way to realize dreams is to make a tangible record of them. The dreams ranged from the deeply personal to the grandly ambitious. There was this, for instance:
My dream is to go to Africa and create a children’s home that trains misplaced kids to be doctors and teachers to help better themselves and their society.
But for every altruistic dream, there’s one on the other end of the scale — like this:
My dream is to be a rock star.
Some of them were simple and plaintive:
My dream is to wake up tomorrow pain free.
Then there was this one:
Uh, Matt? I don’t think we can help you out here. Frankly, you’re scaring us.
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