Practical Dreamer

I like to consider myself a practical dreamer. Being just a dreamer is a negative thing for a guy. I can see myself as a kid with the cliché of a grumpy old guy, probably a gym coach, yelling at me to get my head out of my ass and quit being a dreamer. I’ve always been a dreamer. In second grade I can remember the daydream I was having when my teacher, a Franciscan Nun, smacked me in the face to return me to studies. It was her first year and she was quite freaked out by the bloody nose she gave me. Poor Sister Noob, it wasn’t entirely her fault I got a bloody nose. My brother, the night before, had grabbed me by the heels as I reached the top of the stairs and yanked me down, my head bouncing off each step on the way down in cartoon fashion. After a gusher a nose will be tender for a day releasing a new torrent at the slightest provocation. I felt bad for Sister Noob because she was sweet and afraid. She didn’t need to be afraid, no kid I know in that age would go home and tell their parents that the Nun had to give them a bloody nose. That would just invite a third smack down. I had already lost enough blood and I was still wondering about the statue of Mary I had been staring at. Mary was standing on a sphere. I wasn’t done trying to figure out exactly where on the globe her toes were touching. If I gazed into the heavens could I catch a glimpse of her bunions? Dreaming comes easy, it’s the practical part that’s hard.
As an adult it is OK to be a dreamer as long as you are working to make those dreams a reality. Some of the greatest men in history were dreamers but they also had the gumption, the stubborn determination and the insanity to see their dreams to reality. I have learned in my efforts that it is not easy thing to do. Common thought is that not enough people have the vision or imagination but just the opposite is true. Most people love to be swept away into escapism fantasy but most do not want to do the hard work of making there own dreams come true. Everybody gets swept away watching a musician make music and fantasize about creating melody themselves. Few are devoted enough to overcome the hardship of the practice, the single mindedness of the study.
I had the wonderful opportunity of a lifetime when the factory I worked in closed and I was given a years severance pay. It was the perfect storm of stupidity. I was fed up working for the man and ready for a midlife crisis. I was just ignorant enough to believe I could take this year and become a glass artist. My wife was just foolish enough to believe in me and our resources were just liquid enough to turn that money into a year and a half of working for myself. My dream was wonderful and a nightmare. It was more than I hoped for and nothing that I expected. The big lesson was that just because you can make beautiful art does not mean that you can survive off selling said art. I couldn’t last as a staving artist with a wife, 4 kids and a mortgage. Another lesson I learned was that dreams are more exciting in the dream state.
Every dream is more thrilling in conception than reality. Not that I couldn’t make beautiful art pieces, but the artist sees every imperfection and is already conceiving of how the piece could have been better. New ideas give no time to enjoying the beauty of pieces constructed. These ideas translate the excitement of conception into reality with less than mundane results. All along the way the exercise is just work. Often the dream excitement can carry into some of the work but usually that wears off way before the project is realized. And there have been some spectacularly bad ideas. In the nebulous form dreams don’t realize that by the light of day, plaids don’t go with stripes just as rap doesn’t go with Beethoven and beer does not blend with sherbet ice cream.
It is a wonder is how many are driven, even consumed by the dreams to achieve the spectacular. We see these achievements and we minimize the grueling work behind them. It looks effortless how the master coaxes enchantment out of his musical instrument. We love to watch a painter, a glass blower, a potter and feel I could do that. So many dreamers crash on reefs of realities hard shores. They have naively set off in crafts unfit for the harsh waters. Many quit but a foolish few reassemble themselves and head for the next quixotic battle. For the dreamers who put on the war paint and reenter the battle as veterans they are better prepared. They are practical dreamers.