Drive along a road you’ve never been on before and you’ll see something you’ve seen all the time but maybe just that once you’ll see it for what it really is and not what you thought it was.

That old business that seems to need a new sign. The one that sells something you can’t believe anyone would buy. A plumbing store. Lighting store. Asian market in the middle of an industrial park.

Even if you drive down a residential street you may not see new things, but you may see things new if you look hard enough. Houses. Sure. Old, beat-up, rough-hewn, needing paint, needing their lawn mowed, hell, needing a lawn.

Does it look sad? Does it look rough?

Look at it with a new thought. Most of those houses aren’t houses. They are homes. And those homes were someone’s dream.

Most of those odd businesses were someone’s dream.

They dreamed of owning their own business.

Dreamed of owning their own house.

Maybe it didn’t go the way they wanted, maybe it wasn’t the panacea they sought, but they had a dream and they made it a reality.

The world isn’t built on concrete and asphalt, nor gold and silver, not on lies or truth, but on dreams.

Everyone has a dream, some simpler than others, some just want a nice meal and a place to put their feet up. Others try for more. Some don’t dream as much as others do but they still dream.

Drive down those back streets, see those odd businesses that you can’t believe are in business, start out with a sneer, then look at them again and see them as the owners saw them. Not now. But then. When they opened. When they saw their dream realized.

This world is a dream. A beautiful dream.

Rick’s dreams are complicated. Yes, he dreamed of a house because living in a business took his childhood, yes, he dreamed of a wife and kids, of family, of security, and yes, he even dreamed of music. Too many dreams? Hardly, there can never be enough as long as you work to make it a reality.

As for me? I love my home, I love my Angel, I love my son, and I love my daughter, but my dream was different. Was it to write and draw a comic strip? No, that was an accident, one I’ve enjoyed, mind you, but it was never my dream.

I do have a dream and I have worked to make it real.

But this has gone on a bit too long and seems a bit too philosophical so I’ll talk about that dream later and leave you with a joke, the first joke I remember hearing.

Knock knock,
Who’s there?
Bear.
Bear who?
Bear in his underwear!

(I swear I found that funny when I was a kid. I have no idea why. Worst part? My wife calls me Bear so when I told her the joke she couldn’t stop giggling).

Thanks for reading,

 

Steve