Gift Guide: Care In Dreaming

I’ve been thinking about what to give if physical presents aren’t enough to satisfy one’s heart. Of course, you could pick up a new hobby, or make something by hand. Maybe you would simply commit to doing anything for x amout of days, and the commitment alone is a gift to yourself. In the absence of physical gifts—and physical touch—I’ve been giving myself the opportunity to dream. 

In a year that has caused the realities to rest at our feet and upend our lives, it’s been difficult to make room for this dreaming thing. Right? But along with many things I find necessary to implement over the course of this winter, dreaming is surely becoming one of them. This notion of dreaming as a gift, is not simply for yourself either. What if we offered the room to dream to and for our friends? When approached with a text, our response this year is more affirmative and “I think you can do this.” or “I’ll help you do this!” Maybe it’s, “I’ve spent the last few days thinking about when you said you’d one day start this, and I’d like to commit to being your sounding board and head of support for this dream!” 

While much of our journey is in our hands, 2020 has taught us that we are responsible for the care of our collective communities. And that for some of us, we need the care and voices of those with more room and comfort at their fingertips. Although friendship is friendship, friendship is also community. And to be in communion, we have to support each other. 

With vaccine inoculations taking place all over the world, as we continue to hold the line on our masks and habits of distance, we can transition the desperation of this year into holding good and open, dreaming space. 

Recently, I was shocked by how much support I received when I not only expressed a dream, but vocalized my pursuit of it. One single person, allowed me to feel comfort in the wild thrill of it. By way of this, one person allowed that dream to find a corner to seal itself in as a reality. 

We are waiting for our first snowstorm here in the city today. A friend texted about how others were panicking, a symptom of the year. Another friend texted about how she was looking forward to the way the snow could slow the city and movement in and out of it down. I oscillated between confusion and wonder. And then I remembered dreaming. Particularly, all the dreaming I invested in snowy days close to Christmas Day. Years and years as a kid, and even some the last few years as an adult. I can only recall one snowy day last year. It was February. While I order in plenty, and oil down our sled in preparation, hang our snow gear, and make plans to meet friends at the top of the hill, I’ll think of the way that having dreams (no matter how big or small) now and in the future, can provide gentle harmony.