150 Bygone Days

150 years ago were there more dreams out there than there are now? If you caputured all the dreams and calculated them, adjusted for inflation, would there be more or less than there are now?

A year ago all I wanted was to go on a wagon train. Just for a day. Okay, maybe two so I could go overnight. Maybe take Isaiah James, a cowboy I know from way back (pictured here).

Dreams are meant to be uninhibited. Open. Unrestrained. I'm sure there are those that would argue you could plan your dream. You could plot. You could save. You could tell everyone. But then does it cease to be a dream?

If you wanted to go West, most likely you plotted and you saved and you planned. Especially if you had a family. But once you got on the trail and you did your first heart-stopping crossing at the Missouri, did it stop becoming a dream? When you lost a child or a spouse or a beloved animal on the trail and you had to bury them right there, is that when reality smacks you upside the head (like my father always threatened in church but never did) and you realize it isn't a dream anymore?

I think that I was using the 150 Challenge as a dream. Something that could prove I was uninhibited. Something that was open and unrestrained.

But then at some point, you realize you have to plan and plot and save and then it's not fun anymore. Reality gets in the way of your dream.

My question now is how can I fit my dream into my reality?