Kia Speaks

A Dream Deferred a.k.a. When Your Dreams Dry Up and Look Like Ish

A Dream Deferred a.k.a. When Your Dreams Dry Up and Look Like Ish

A Dream Deferred a.k.a. When Your Dreams Dry Up and Look Like Ish

I think I’ve lost my ability to dream. And before all the church folks enter quoting scripture and telling me the power and purpose of dreams, let me politely ask you to exit. Because unless you’ve dreamt my dreams, made my sacrifices, felt my pain and survived my disappointments, you really cant offer me any words of hope and encouragement.

Dreams are beautiful in the beginning. But the pain of deferred dreams is inexplicable. Langston Hughes talked about them drying up like a raisin in the sun, but in my experience, its more like knife inserted directly into your heart. The pain is extricating, the hemorrhage of blood causes you to freeze from disbelief and lightheadedness, and you want to scream louder because you feel the knife twisting left and right, but you can’t find the breathe or the energy to do so…so you just lay there…unable to do anything but watch this dream fade away. That’s what deferred dreams feel like to me.

There is a faint part of me that wants to hold onto my dreams, that needs to hold onto my dreams…and that part of me keeps whispering, “Just have the faith of a mustard seed…the faith of a tiny mustard seed.” And I’m glad that’s all God asked for because I’m barely able to conjure up that. It hurts too bad to visualize things that you feel will never materialize. It’s too painful to imagine making the same sacrifices for another 10, 20, 30 years…but if you don’t believe, then what?

At this point, I passively relinquish all of my dreams. I’m like Mary was when Gabriel told her she was pregnant with Jesus: “Do onto me as you please.” Although I’m certain it sounds a whole lot more disrespectful coming from me. Or like that other dude whose name and story escapes me at this point, but he said, “I believe, but help my unbelief.” Because I’m tired. Not only am I tired, but I’m also constipated. I’m full of dreams, and promises, and hopes that have never been recognized or fulfilled. So part of me doesn’t want to hear or see anymore dreams. The one’s I’ve already dreamt are more than enough to last a lifetime. I just want to make it through one day at a time, and if each of those days build into the beautiful dreams that I’ve dreamt, then so be it. And if they don’t, then so be that as well.

I sound so distant from the purposeful person I was just six months ago. I miss her. God, I miss her. But she’s bitter, and she’s broken, and she doesn’t have the ability to fight anymore. I feel like I should be Hannah and cry out to God until He gives me my baby, I feel like I should be Jacab and wrestle with God until He blesses me, but I’m tired, and God, I’m just going to sit over here and twiddle my thumbs. Please have it with me and my life however You please.

*Please forgive any grammatical and/or biblical inaccuracies. This blog is a visceral reaction to my convoluted emotions and was not fact checked as it would normally be. All biblical references are based off my flawed memory and should be acknowledged as such.*

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