Invisible Dogs & Discarded Dreams

I don’t remember much about her. I know she was feisty. I remember she never had difficulty keeping up with my short little legs, but I often had to tell adults to slow down or wait for her to catch up. Usually, my grandfather zipped her up in his jacket so she would stay warm on our walks. As a little girl, I didn’t understand that his sweet gesture was merely to get me to walk more than one block at a time without stopping and waiting for “Weiner,” my invisible dachshund. I get the adult logic now. I also still feel the love as my person gently picked up my imaginary creature, tucked her gently under the flap of his jacket, let her get settled, and waited for her to poke out her head before he zipped up.

Little me posing with Weiner on a camping trip. (For those that can’t see her she’s on the log by my feet!)

Hunky hubby and I went to see If this earlier this year. The heartwarming movie made me remember (kinda the whole point of the film) the days of wonder and play with my invisible friend. It tapped into this feeling I carry lately, during the midlife renaissance I am in, that we forget the dreams and fun of youth. Part of the fuel for this midlife time of expansion and discovery comes post trauma therapy. Reconnecting with my younger self, acknowledging dreams that fell by the wayside, and striving to honor myself (then and now) has changed how I see life.

I think of the girl who dreamed of being a zookeeper and having her little Weiner dog with her everywhere. I used to tell my invisible dog that the good thing about being invisible was that she wouldn’t upset the animals when we were at work. That little girl dreamed of petting elephants, traveling the world to find animals where they lived, and feeling safe. I am not a zookeeper, although, at points, I think I tried to make our lives a mini zoo (we have owned several dogs, two guinea pigs, a few fish, several snails, four ferrets, two canaries, three bearded dragons, and even a chameleon – many at the same time). I have seen elephants in their native habitat. I have watched thousands of birds greet the day over the Amazon River. And I am learning that I am safe.

As I cried while watching adults remember their imaginary friends (in the movie), I wondered about other dreams I had forgotten or overlooked. Adulting has a way of doing that to you, doesn’t it? It has a way of making all that seemed grand and adventurous seem frivolous and unnecessary. And we set dreams down. If you looked back along the road you’ve traveled, what dreams lay cast off in the ditch or dropped on the pavement?

I wanted to write – books, articles, anything that would allow me to tell stories and scratch the itch at the back of my writer’s mind. I wanted to go to college and get an English degree – not to teach (I was told I would become a fat, unhappy English teacher if I chose that route) but to make me a better writer, to learn more about the craft, and to prove that I could get a degree and do what I wanted with it. I wanted to be one of those artsy people. I wanted to travel. I wanted to make a difference in the world. I wanted to belong to someone.

Just to recap – as much for me as for you – I am writing the words you are reading. I graduated with a degree in Creative Writing at the end of the summer. I am writing in my studio, surrounded by art supplies and creations of all kinds of artistic people. I sell photography, paintings, cards, and creations in my lil art shop. We have set our feet in some incredible places around the world in the last decade. God continues to open doors to allow our family to help others. Hunky hubby and I celebrate twenty years of marriage this fall. Through our family, I have learned about belonging and safety.

My life does not look like the dreams I carried as a small child. In some ways, it’s better than I could have ever imagined. This journey toward healing has taught me many, many lessons, but If seemed to underline one. Remember. Remember who you dreamed of being. Remember what or who you wanted to be. Make room to pursue dreams. Allow them to blossom and come true.

Looking back, I see many dropped dreams along my path. Some I let go to make room for the dreams I did not know how to dream in other seasons—dreams of marriage, family, and ministry. During this midlife renaissance, you may find me back there, picking up dreams and trying them on again. Who knows, I might even take a walk with an invisible little dog….

Making the adults wait for Weiner to catch up on our walk.