The Idealism of Dreams and The Wet Blanket-ism of Reality

I've long dreamed of going to faraway, romantic places. No! Not you're preconceived notions of romantic. By romantic, I meant beautiful and filled with adventure and mysterious and such. I've dreamt of going to the wonderful place that is Europe. I am attracted to its history, culture and the sheer beauty of the places there. My dreams are really simple. I don't dream of wealth (though I may want to be economically comfortable, but the key to that is contentment), or fame, or of accomplishing something great. These are well beyond my personal capabilities and imagination. I cannot imagine how I can achieve them. I only ambition to go to spectacular places, on an adventurous journey, to have experiences that are far more fulfilling, heartwarming, and life-changing. Experiences that will not make me look at the world in the same way again...(Of course, these are conceived in my head presumptively to be the good kind of experiences. Bad ones can also be life-changing.) And I am of the opinion that Europe is where I'll find what I'm looking for. I am so idealistic and everything sounds all good....

And then reality sets in.

First of all, how will I get there? I will need lots and lots of cash. Money I've never even held, much more seen, in all my life. To get there, live there and back. If I plan to live there permanently, it takes much more. I'd have to work, get an immigrant visa, and all other prerequisites of modern-day immigration and G8-country living. I will have to work there to earn a living and sustain my pleasure-seeking or adventure-seeking. Everything I want will not be immediately acquired and achieved. By the time I will have enough I will have become old and world-weary and have lost my initial idealism and childish excitement. Reality is such a wet blanket, ain't it?

And there are the what ifs.

What if I was wrong about my notions about Europe? What if all its grandeur that were so vividly flashed on television --the very perpetrator of my wild ambition-- weren't as real as I thought them to be, or yet, already gone, consumed by modernization? What if I do get there, but end up disappointed --or worse, disappointed and unable to get out because I am under some work contract or something else that's similarly binding? Now wouldn't that be horrible, exactly the opposite of what I was seeking. Di ba? Awful, awful. Among other things that I could say about this, I'd say that even if life wasn't as forward and as comfortable before as it could be now, it was still nicer to live in the days of old. Dreams were much easier to realize that time ago, dreams like mine. Dreams like mine aren't for this era. They are best buried, set aside or sent back to a time when they were still feasible. Old dreams like what I have cannot survive in this modern world, where everything is practical than ideal, realistic than romantic. Modern days call for modern dreams. David Beckham lived his dream because it can be classified as a modern dream. To become a professional footballer, to play for what team he wants to play for, it is well within the boundaries of "modern". And good for him to have lived "the dream".

And maybe I should also quit reading Paulo Coelho. His books are also fuel for my imagination and for wanting to fly to Europe. I've learned to love la España, partly because of him --another reason to take the Euro trip.

Without my dreams, I have no other reason for going out of the country. What am I going to do here, then? Help clean up the environment? Demand to restore the rights and privileges that the government deprives the poor and the powerless of? Am I to ground myself on reality now? Do only what's realistic and practical? Am I to discourage the children that I may bear from dreaming because sometimes they don't come true or are just unreachable? To not reach your dream is sad. But to not dream or to stop others from dreaming is horrible. Living without dreams, it's like living in a grayscale world, after all its default color information was discarded. Drab and much more depressing than "squatters' areas" in full color.

So I decide to keep on dreaming. It may be foolish, people may call me foolish and always up in the clouds, but perhaps it's the only way to stay sane and happy, at least in part. Foundng yourself in reality will eventually strip you of your humanity. You might become successful, reach the pinnacles of fame, or stand on top your mountain of gold in doing that, but these are not guarantees of happiness and of a fulfilled life. I do seek happiness and fulfillment, and I cannot see myself finding them in these modern and worldly accomplishments. And perhaps I can always work slowly towards reaching my dreams. I may not be able to get myself there, but I might come close. Perhaps to Palawan? Close enough. One of the most pristine and most beautiful beaches in the Philippines will do. Perhaps I can take up Nursing and get the hell outta here. Hahaha! Not! Or maybe not, that is. I don't know. I might relent to the pressure my family is putting on me to take that damn course. But yes, I will continue to dream and keep my idealism alive. Idealism is a refuge when you get weary of this world, a solace in the midst of the mundane, the motivation to stay above mediocrity. It is what brings us closer to perfection. It is a drive to stay alive, keep on living purposefully. It is Paulo Coelho who said that every man's purpose --the only purpose --in this world, is to fulfill one's Personal Legend, that which you want most in life. I'm sorry, Mr. Coelho, for even thinking of getting rid of you from my life. I will need your wisdom every now and then.