Martin Luther King, Jr. was not the only one who had a dream, though hWiTe liberals would tell you otherwise. We waste so much of our time opining endlessly about goals and aspirations that we wish to see realized in this series of revolutions around the sun that we call life. People sit on their apathetic asses at home, fantasizing about a childhood dream that they never pursued because society beat it out of them. The deferment of dreams is early onset like diabetes.
People have been conditioned to believe that dreams are never to leave the confines of the subconscious realm, in the deepest stages of REM sleep. They are endlessly admonished for daring to dream, for wishing to materialize their own reality breath by breath. Living from moment to moment is highly frowned upon in a modern capitalist society, for that would encourage independent thinking. That would foster revolutionary concepts such as the right to a fair wage and not purchasing more than you could consume.
That would slow down the means of production because too many people were refusing to be forced into a life that was never meant for them. The factory owner’s profits are almost entirely contingent upon the brow beaten working class remaining hopelessly resigned to a life of meaningless toil. So they, clever capitalists that they are, seize control of the means of production (your body) by investing in societal propaganda to keep you (meaning your conscious mind) plugged into the matrix. Slowly, as you relinquish more hope by the day, you find your dreams being permanently shelved, one at a time.
You run across Harlem Renaissance era poetry across your news feed, written by some queer black youth high off of reefer sticks in the back of a crowded jazz happening. Your eyes quickly scroll past these uncomfortable notions of dreams being deferred, about raisins in the sun and people on their deathbeds wondering why they never followed their hearts.
You see, the problem is, you think you have more time than you actually do. You are to blind to see the clock ticking ever closer to the witching hour, to see that you have an expiration date stamped across your forehead. This expiration date is written into the lines that form at the corners of your eyes when you smile, into the glazed over expression you get when people talk about how it easy it was to realize their dreams.
It’s a lot easier to walk down the the well beaten path to forge your own, primarily because you know exactly where it leads. There won’t be any surprises if you keep your head down and do what you’re told by the corporate overseers. The risk is minimal, for the outcome is nearly guaranteed. The only reward they promise you is the chance to remain housed and sheltered into old age, unless the stock markets do a sudden nosedive and rob you of your meager life savings.
Personally, I don’t subscribe to that bullshit. I never have, and I don’t see myself starting anytime soon. I may not have much, material wise, but that’s never been the metric of success that I use for my life. I believe in intangible wealth, in wealth of soul and spirit. I believe in pursuing knowledge relentlessly, in finding fulfillment within myself instead of outside sources.
I believe in the grand design, the higher scheme of things. I know how powerless we are in this life, regardless of whatever positions or titles we put next to our name. I realize that we are not our bodies, our place in this universe is more fleeting than the blink of an eye. Our existence is merely a wrinkle in time, not even a ripple in a pond.
Knowing this, how could I not dare to live my life like it’s golden? This is my one chance, and I won’t ever let your projections of insecurity push me off my chosen path. Just because you’re too petrified to forge your own path doesn’t mean that I have to be as well. The only thing to fear is God Himself, so why would I ever fear the possibility of failure? Why would you let your dreams fester and die? Why would you not get back in good standing with them, rehabilitate them? Just stop being a coward and get it how you live, my nigga.