Apparently last night I had been dreaming of a life I left behind 11 years ago. Snippets of memory like peering through a gauzy veil, and scenes vaguely reminiscent of my life as a builder in a small coastal town north of Boston.
I woke up with the What Ifs.
You know how dreams are: like your eyes can’t completely focus, situations that are seemingly disconnected but maybe not, faces you know but can’t place, yet the feeling in the dream is quite real.
I was back in Old Town and trying to figure out why the house I was in was unfinished. There was a meeting to be had there, but it was just me.
I walked down a cobbled street to what I figured to be the office of the architect and it was a room of all glass and about 10 people seated around a glass table. I tried to get the attention of the man who was the architect on this particular job without disrupting the meeting. He looked like a friend who wasn’t an architect but a realtor and a neighbor. I wondered how he switched careers so seamlessly.
Dreams. Hmmm.
I started watching Dune last night on Netflix and the very first shot is a quote:
“Dreams are messages from the deep”.
*******
Maybe that’s the catalyst for wandering the halls of my past last night and the mantra resounding in my head when I awoke this morning –
What If? What If? What If?
And like a waterfall cascading down I went back in time to the beginning What If.
What if I was still that successful builder in that beautiful oceanside town?
What if I had never read the Four Agreements and moved to California?
What if I hadn’t survived falling off that cliff?
What if I was still married to my first wife going on 42 years?
What if I didn’t drop out of college and instead got my degree in Outdoor Education like I had planned?
What if I was paralyzed at age 15 when I broke my neck in gym class?
What if my father hadn’t died when I was three?
What if in the first months of being in the womb my lip and palette fused like they should, and I was born “normal”?
What if…
*******
After waking up this morning I got out bed, turned on the heat, let the dogs out, and slid back under the covers, wrapped myself around my beloved and briefly drifted back to sleep.
I was right where I should be.
After a short but delicious nodding out I opened my eyes and knew the What Ifs can never compare to the What Is.
The What Is…
…is all I know, and the What Ifs are just a beautiful daydream.
Thanks for reading.
Jamie Gilroy is a Mindset Coach working with men to unlock their fullest potential. Are you looking to tweak and improve some issues in your life? Are you interested in a free clarity call to investigate working with Jamie? Email him at:jbgilroy@icloud.com And check out his website to learn more about the work he does: https://jamesbgilroy.com
Comments
his story could be fitting for the topic.
banquo lived enveloped in the mists of prophecy, the what if.
in doing so he may have failed to predict macbeth’s intentions, murder.
his death commences a sequence of murders, leaving many what-ifs for the audience.
but as the audience, we do not dwell on what-ifs. that is not how the story was meant to be.
banquo was killed before his what-ifs could be realized, perhaps it is best not to dwell on them.
as you put it, “what ifs are just a beautiful daydream.”
"b" in his comment above (Bodhi my middle child) is referencing a movie he made for his school about Macbeth and in the movie I played Banquo which this photo is a still from.
Beautiful insight Bo, and I picked that photo with no idea of the "what if" tie in...felt dreamlike...