When do we have to stop dreaming?

Things are so slow at work these days at work that I spent the entire day watching Glee on Hulu today. A couple thoughts. First, those actors are getting too old to play high school teenagers. Second, the material on the show is becoming super inappropriate - hello, student and teacher sleeping together? Third, even though I love the Finn character, Cory Monteith is kind of a bad actor. Fourth, who the heck is that super annoying girl who wears crazy glittery, gold clothes and has a nasaly voice, and why is she on the show?

Ok, so those criticisms aside, I still love watching Glee. It reminds me of the earnestness and angst of youth, set to song and dance. One of the episodes I watched - "Hold on to 16" reminded me just how old I am. 16 was 16 years ago. Damn. I don't have hangups over my age anymore in the way I did between the ages of 29 to recently, but what it made me think about is how when we are young we are allowed to - supposed to, in fact - dream. We're supposed to dream about what we want from life, what we want to be when we grow up, who we want to become. In high school and college, we are encouraged to dream, and dream big. And then somewhere between graduation and our early 30's, the whole paradigm shifts. I'm not sure exactly where the line is, but there is a point at which we are no longer supposed to be dreamers - in fact, if you're still a dreamer and haven't achieved your dreams (or alternately, accepted your life and made the best of it), you're kind of pathetic.

I was recently talking to a friend who is dating a guy who works in the public sector. She wants him to quit his job and move into the private sector so he can make more money - she told him that if they got married, she and their kids would not be able to survive on his salary. By which, she admittedly meant, she could not choose to be a stay-at-home wife while still maintaining the lifestyle she currently lives as a corporate lawyer. The guy has a six-figure salary, but she wants private schooling for their potential future kids and the option to not have to work. He told her that if she's unhappy with what he makes or who he is, they should break up immediately. They ended up working through the issues, but it sparked a conversation between her and me. On the one hand, I can see her perspective. I think It is valid to want the option to not have to work, and to want a comfortable life. On the other hand, I don't think it's fair to tell the guy to give up his dreams so she can do that, because what if he had asked that of her instead? Maybe he's not the right guy for her if that lifestyle is really important to her. Because I think when we choose to love someone, we have to accept the lifestyle that comes with it. For some, it might mean a life of leisure. But for others, it might mean that you will always have to work to help support the partnership/family. But what's not fair is to love someone and then tell them to give up their dreams - if it comes to that, you're probably not the right fit for each other.

This sparked a long conversation about many different subjects, but one question that I had was: when did we reach that point where we're not supposed to dream anymore? I can safely say that I think that I, and most of my friends, have reached a stage in our lives where we are not supposed to make crazy, dreamer decisions anymore. We have reached this annoying thing called adulthood where you're supposed to be responsible and pragmatic. When I mentioned that she's basically asking him to give up his dreams, she noted: "he had his 20's to dream, now he needs to be responsible."

It's jaded and sobering, but I think in large part, I kind of agree. And yet there's the dreamer in me - as always - that rebels against it. Why does dreaming come with an age limit? I mean, is it really so crazy to still want to change the world, or do something radical, or leave your mark in the world, or even more basic: pursue happiness? I don't know...I don' t think it's crazy - as long as you do it in a responsible way. I don't think you should quit your job and try to join a band and become financially dependent on your parents again. But I don't think it's crazy to pursue a path that your heart/gut wants. Even if it is less lucrative, less responsible. And yet I know for myself, I'm a different person than I was 10 years ago. Do I still have dreams? Of course. But to be honest, they are fainter and fainter, and sometimes I can't remember what my dreams are anymore. Which may sound sad, but it's not really because my life feels very full and fulfilling. Maybe I am living my dreams, although I don't remember still being at a law firm being part of my original dreams. But to the extent I still have some crazy pipe dreams, what's changed about me is my inclination to act on my dreams. Seven years ago I used my life savings and maxed out my credit cards to open a cupcake bakery. Would I do that today? Hell to the no. (I'm obviously watching too much Glee)

I guess what's changed mostly are not my dreams or the core of who I am, but my appetite for risk. Things seem to have more weight now, longer-lasting consequences. It's both good and bad. After I finally got over my age complex when I entered my 30's, I love being in my 30's. I love that life is at a different stage - I finally feel like a real adult. Many of my friends are now parents and what I notice about that is that life's focus totally shifts from themselves to their children. They are no longer Jane or John - they are someone's parents - and that comes with so much weight. And I think for the most part, the weight is welcome. If in our 20's and/or single days we were drifting, trying to find our place in the world, it seems that parenthood has the effect of solidly grounding you. And there's something so lovely and beautiful about that. But there's also something sad and wistful about it. Because in becoming grounded, I think we let go of a lot of our own dreams. It's as if in our teens and 20's we were holding on to many balloons, each representing a dream for ourselves, that kept us floating above the ground, the wind taking us in different directions. But as we get older, anchors start to tie us down to earth. Marriage. Mortgage. Children. Familial responsibilities. And slowly, we let some balloons go. And at some point, we start transferring our own unfulfilled dreams and expectations on our children, which they will resent, just as we did our own parents. It will be sad that you gave up your own dreams, yet you'll rarely think so or even think about it at all, because you will love your children so much that you will not be able to imagine that you could have understood how fulfilling life can really be before you had them. And time will pass, your children will grow up and one day you will blink and be 50, and blink again and be 70, and you'll wonder where the time went and occasionally think about those paths that could have been but weren't, but if you are lucky, you will realize that you lived a full and happy life.

Sometimes, for a millisecond, you get a moment of utter clarity, where you see all this. You are removed from the blindness that comes with daily life and your own subjectivism, and for a teeny tiny second, you understand your place and time in the world, and you feel peace with it all. But the moment passes all too soon.