At the start of the year, on a flight back to Bangalore from Kochi, I found myself sitting in front of a family, a father and his three children – two boys and a little girl, all likely below the age of eight.
Usually, being seated in close proximity to young kids is a recipe for a migraine, among other general chaos. It is not preferred. Which is probably why I instantly noticed how different this experience felt.
I soon learnt that the family were Indians living abroad, accents sounding American. The children were well behaved, sweet, and caring. They had a bunch of questions about the flight, when they would meet their mom, and how they were going to spend their next few days in Bangalore.
Fifteen minutes in, I put down the book I was trying to read, having decided on my in-flight entertainment of choice.
One of the boys spoke at length about the role of the flight’s propeller, explaining to his younger brother in gory detail what would happen if his hand, or body!, was to get caught in one. The father did not interrupt, but you could tell that it was intentional.
He was attentive, gently changing the topic by asking how they enjoyed their stay in Kerala. Before long, the children were yelling out their favourite moments from the trip.
I smiled, the group was an overwhelmingly heartwarming one. But there was something else that I noticed coming up, a sense of wistfulness.
I hadn’t thought of it in years, but a family with three children and a doting husband and father was one of my oldest dreams. At some point, I was certain that by the time I was my current age, 30, I’d be well on my way to fulfilling that dream – a man I could belong to, and our children, the proof of our union.
But over the years, I discovered that I fully belonged to no one but myself and grew disenchanted by the institute of marriage. In my mid-twenties, after a tough breakup, I was forced to reckon with the knowledge that the cocktail of my mental health challenges would make raising kids particularly difficult for me. The dream of that family is not one I relate to anymore.
And yet, there I was feeling pangs of longing for something that I didn’t even want. Where was that coming from? What did it mean?
I’ve spent the past few months going over what I felt that day. The more I thought of it, I realized that there is a whole list of such scenarios that exist – dreams I dream no more.
Some of them were childish, such as my dream to someday marry SRK! Others, like my ‘conventional family’ dream, were discarded when they no longer fit who I wanted to be or who I had become. There were even a handful of time-bound ones which ruptured on their respective deadlines (and yes, let’s just admit that certain types of dreams do have deadlines).
But though the person I am today does not have any of these dreams, they still seemed to live in me, somewhere, somehow. And I’ve been thinking a lot about how to make room for that.
These dreams may not reside in our logical brain or be something we work towards, but they are not just wisps of thought we blow away when we’re done with them.
The energy we’ve created within these dreams, the ways they’ve driven us and shaped our lives, the parts of ourselves we’ve discovered and embodied because of them, the relations we cultivated and skills we developed for them – it’s all real. And here’s what I propose we do about that:
1. Validate these dreams.
It is so okay to still feel them within you as pangs of nostalgia, tenderness, sorrow, and love. It is okay for them to take up space, as poignant hymns for the homes you built but didn’t occupy, the sister lives you didn’t choose because of everything you did. Notice them, call them out by name, tell them you remember.
2. Pay attention to what they’ve left you with.
Often, these dreams leave behind traces of their existence – places they have taken you to, people they’ve brought into your life, talents they have sought out and amplified. Look for these markings, these reminders of where you became from. Know that just because the fulfilled reality doesn’t exist the way you pictured it, it doesn’t mean that the dream did not manifest in your life.
3. Keep watch for the unlikely ways they come full circle.
Sometimes, as my brilliant friend R said to me, you’ve just got to meet that self of yours somewhere along the way to close the loop. That may look like a 30-year-old you standing in front of SRK’s house and giggling like the child who genuinely believed that it was only a matter of time until their paths collided. Or it could look like finding and building a version of the family dream that makes sense for who you are right now.
Chances are, it will look radically different from the image you originally had in mind. But it’s going to feel similar, or strangely connected to how you thought you’d feel when the dream came true.
This is the other half coming around, the full circle roping in, your story coalescing into an arc that’s fit to carry you.
Now, onward.
💌
Love,
Soumya
Reflection Prompts ✍️
~ When was the last time you saw someone else live out a dream you once had but no longer do? (Notice the next time it happens)
~ What feelings does the thought of that old dream bring up?
~ Did you spend time and energy cultivating room for the dream? Does that room still exist in you?
~ When did you stop relating to the dream?
~ What could it coming full circle look like for you today?
Recommended Read 📚
If you know me at all, you know how big an impact Susan Cain has left on my life. Her first book Quiet is what I call the introvert's Bible. And Bittersweet is a twin soul, a journey exploring the significance of grief, longing, and pain in our lives. An instant NYT bestseller and Oprah's latest book club read, you know I'm not bluffing with this. ❤
Jam 🎵
An oldie but goldie, this piano piece is often described as invoking the feeling of falling in love. I think the conception and journey of dreams are quite similar, if not deeply intertwined with love itself. A tune for your dreams, then. Notice the melody come full circle!
Thank you for reading! 💞
This email is Part 1 of a 3-part series I am doing on dreams. If you enjoyed it, do subscribe and stay tuned for the next one! To support me, you could also:
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Dear Soumya,
Your honest yearnings make my heart soft. Thank you for writing this, thank you for sharing this. Thank you for writing, thank you for sharing.
Yet another wholesome read, Soumya. It is like you picked out some semi cluttered, semi dormant thoughts from my recluse head, stacked them up neatly and presented back with a bow. Thanks for all that you share, it is so much appreciated. 💛 ✨
ps : love Yiruma’s passing by.
As a return gift, may I suggest Emma Gannon’s The Hyphen - “the trap of too much” on Substack. It looks like something you’d enjoy. Take care. Good jujus 💛