What Dreams May Come

Do dreams ever really die? Or do we simply tuck them away when we new dreams move in and shove them aside? And if we do pack them away, do old dreams ever rear their head, demanding attention?

My earliest memories involve sound. More accurately, muffled sounds — thanks to recurring ear problems as a little girl. My baby book recounts an early love of music.

[As a total aside, it was stated in the aforementioned baby book that “one of baby’s favourite records” was Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf. For the record (no pun intended!), it wasn’t. That record totally and completely freaked me out to the point that to this day I cannot hear that leitmotif without getting physically ill.]

Any. Way.

Ah, yes. Music. It completely filled my soul since I was young and informed my childhood aspirations. The sum of my adolescent existence was comprised of rehearsals, lessons, performances, and so forth. Every bit of energy went into the support and fulfillment of that dream.

Until…

Until?

Until.

Until there was a new dream.

Remember that line from Joni Mitchell’s Circle Game? “There’ll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty before the last revolving year is through.”

And so a new dream replaced the one of youth.

I have no regrets and I rarely look back.

Once-in-a-while, though, I am reminded of that old dream. Recently, I was the featured entertainment at a Sisterhood function.

The Program:

It’s A Good Day (Peggy Lee/Dave Barbour)
I Enjoy Being A Girl (Rodgers/Hammerstein)
Can’t Help Lovin’ Dat Man (Hammerstein/Kern)
Memory (Webber/Eliot/Nunn)
I Dreamed A Dream (Schönberg/Boublil)
Fifteen Pounds (Goldrich/Heisler)

My favourite part? When it was over.

Seriously.

I get nervous. Really nervous. Heart-leaping-out-of-my-chest nervous.

Weird, I know, because I get up on the bimah every week. But it is completely different. There is an adrenaline rush before the service begins but it in no way compares to the nerves I feel before a show.

I prefer the adrenaline, to tell you the truth.

And somehow, leading a service feels more real. More honest. It’s me up there. No fascade. No alter ego. No characterization. Just me.

And that’s how I prefer it.

I am living my dream. The new dream. Just the way I am meant to be doing.

Check out what the Ima has to say today. I love her stuff and REALLY love what she has to say about Mother’s Day!