I recall when I was a kid I often dreamed of the respect I, as an orator, wanted to achieve from others, that could build up my own self respect, but i could never reach this dream.
When I were a teen I always dreamed of some ideal place where I can hide from the outer world and contemplate humans in all the power and beauty of their destructive nature.
Then since the age of 17, when I once again started to feel the need in contacting with others, and as I got to the imageboards that fed my perverted perception of self image I dreamed of becoming attractive so at least I could be liked by other people.
Now, when I know that all my past dreams were nothing but projection of complexes about my self image and worries of not being able to fit in the competitive world of people, I feel that I have no dream anymore, except for the volition of not to die alone.
“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”
I have a dream. It’s not idealistic all all that. I would like to open a deli and make the best sandwiches anyone has ever had. And people would love me. And I would put chips on the sandwiches.
One of the many doctors I saw told my parents “he’s never going to be successful any dreams he has or you have for him will never come true” a different doc said I’d never have motor skills or cognitive ability anymore.
As a youth I wanted to be an English teacher. I was on my way there until schizophrenia hit.
Another sort of dream I had was to play music on the beaches of Cancun. I was actually a fairly successful musician as a teenager. Not talking millions or anything but enough to comfortably buy a house in California in less than 10 years. I had the chance to travel to Quintana Roo, Mexico which is further south than where I was born. I saw musicians there and it looked like a fun job in paradise. Whelp, schizophrenia hit.
