Whimsical, Magical, Fantastical Dreams

When we are little, adults ask us frequently, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Answers range from firefighters to astronauts to princesses to dinosaurs. I remember drawing in this book I had, which prompted me to create certain things, myself as an artist: a paintbrush in one hand and a mixing pallet in the other. When I got a little older, I discovered painting was harder than I thought and turns out I am probably not the next Van Gogh or Picasso. My dreams changed, author this time. I tried writing but 13 hand-written pages into my “book,” I realized that it would probably not be the next New York Best Seller. Marine Biologist, singer, teacher, zoologist, movie producer, and everything in between filled my childhood.

Then, I grew up. Physically I stopped growing, but when does one exactly transition between being a child and an adult? Legally I am considered an adult at age 18, but I am given the right (if I pass a test) to man a metal machine that could easily kill someone if I am not careful at age 16 yet I am not allowed to drink alcoholic beverages until I am 21. Scientists have come to the conclusion the brain stops developing when humans are 24 years old, but when does our brain stop maturing? I’m not sure it ever does. There is no definitive time in one’s life where you are grown up and when you are not because there is nothing like the feeling of returning home and laying your head upon your own pillow or running through the sprinkler during a hot summer day. And as we age, our wisdom grows, but our childish longings never leave us, only become more subdued. When you are a kid, there is some magic line you cross once you “grow up,” but the fact that it does not exist makes the question of what I want to be when I grow up much harder to answer.

I have some ideas what I want to be. Some are fantastical and reserved for only dreams while others are much more attainable. I dream to be an ambassador for my country, to be able to help facilitate international relations for the UN, or to translate between countries in the world. I dream to be a polyglot, speaking languages like Spanish, French, Portuguese, German, Dutch, Arabic, Hindi, and etcetera. I dream to be a renowned photographer and explorer, sharing my adventures in one or two issues of National Geographic during my lifetime of how I climbed mountains or ventured through the rainforest or maybe simply sat down and had a meal in a foreign land.

Recently, I have discussed my future with two of my friends who are also on exchange, one of whom wants to be an ocean geologist and the other an archaeologist. My immediate reaction was to tell them how interesting and amazing their dreams are! Mine pale in comparison! They reminded me of being a little girl again, having wild dreams of doing something unique and unordinary. I explained to one how I wished to be an ambassador because a professional photographer is unattainable. “Be optimistic… If you really want it, you CAN get the job,” she told me. How odd a response. As an 18 year old girl, living in Spain who just figured out where she would like to pursue college, I am used to being told that I must go after a career that makes money, something that will use my intelligence, and I can have for a long time. Being encouraged by a peer that I need to hold fast to my dreams so they don’t slip away is an experience I have not had the pleasure of having in a long time. Although her words were simple and kind, it reminded me that with perseverance and hard work, anything is attainable.

When we “grow up,” where does our imagination go? Why does it limit ourselves and make the world less whimsical? Perhaps, reality taints it or others tell you that you need to stop living in a made-up realm. Our doodles as children becomes more realistic when we are older and we find ourselves drawing cubes or rain drops instead of dragons or mermaids in the margins of our notes. Sometimes we forget how to dream while we sleep or if we do, it is about menial things. Our creativity is suppressed to the point of minimal existence. Those who have grand imaginations and dreams stick out in society: they dress differently, they have an abnormal shade of hair color, their opinions are different, they don’t stick to the status quo. Labels are easily put upon them and the price they pay for an active imagination is not fitting in. Their doodles are abstract, they dream of creating what they love as their dream job even if it means not making much money, and they are joyful people. They tell amazing stories, ones that are true and others that they make up off the top of their heads. Yet, somehow they are the ones labeled as weird or get whispered about. They are living exactly how they want to be though: doing what they love, which is the only thing that matters to them.

For now, I won’t settle with doing something uncreative. I am an artist, but not of paint, of dreams. And it is my career in life to bring these dreams to life as would a painter paint an idea to canvas. Maybe I will be a photographer or an ambassador, maybe not. Whatever I do, I will do because it makes me happy and it keeps the embers of my warm imagination glowing, ready to be heated up into a blazing fire again.

*Polyglot: someone who speaks 4 or more languages

**I took the picture of the boat on the beach today (crazy weather the past few days)

I wanted to start sharing some of my thoughts that I write down during my exchange and perhaps give a deeper glimpse of what goes on in my head, more than the updates of what I do with my time or a recent trip I took. My creativity this year has skyrocketed since I have minimal outlets for it, so my doodles are more extravagant, I play my guitar a ton, I write (all the time,) and will soon be buying some paint to have fun with.

Thanks for reading!