My dream self is a deadly street fighter. My dream self can speak 4 languages fluently. My dream self has several published books, can fence (with a sword, not stolen merchandise), and has a Nobel Prize.
She has a tattoo of a stately oak (Quercus coccinea Muenchhausen) scribed on her back and joie de vivre on her arm. My dream self can drive race cars and ski the triple black diamond trails. My dream self is smart, she is confident, she never eats too many potato chips in one sitting.
She is perpetually 35 years old, young, fit, lovely, and doesn’t need reading glasses. My dream self is kind, mature, and gracious. She never has too much or too little to say and never, ever makes a fool of herself. She has never disappointed people, or been disappointed by them. She doesn’t fail or falter.
I have, I do. I’m old. Accomplishments are things past. Regrets, disappointments live long in my heart.
But Dream-Self reminds Me-Self: dreams are not what was. Dreams are what is now and what will be.
You’ll have to excuse me now. I have some things to do.