What is a Dream Weaver?

Dream Weaver is a great song, obviously. Possibly about psychedelics, now that I’ve looked up the lyrics?

Dream Weavers—despite the cheese-ball name—are people who fathom dreams and goals and ideas and plans and futures and don’t just sit there and take a bunch of psychedelics… they go to their loom and weave the shit out of them. They make magic carpets with their dreams. (Okay so I just looked up the meaning of a magic carpet ride and that, too, is about drugs. Just say no to LSD-laced dreams, children.)

What is a Dream Leaver?

I think it’s kind of obvious.

But in case you need an elaboration: Dream Leavers leave their dreams in the dust.

Dream Leavers do not suffer from a lack of imagination. They imagine… and then abandon their dreams. They conjure dreams… and then get scared &/or busy &/or succumb to the flimsy “I’ll get to it later” notion &/or scared—did I mention scared? I don’t think I did.

Dream Leavers are often scared to press the Launch button on their dreams because IT CAN BE VERY SCARY TO WEAVE A DREAM. It is infinitely easier to leave a dream. I know this well… I avoided career changes over the years because I was afraid of my dreams… until I became more afraid of what my life would look like if I didn’t make the changes.

(Look how scary it looks to use a loom. No wonder people leave their dreams behind.)

If you “dream it and do it” you risk failure, rejection, humiliation, bankruptcy, and haggard-looking skin (especially under the eyes). None of those things sound appealing. But you know what is even less appealing? The “dream it and don’t do it” opt-out scenario.

The stench of squandering a dream is unmistakable and you will carry it with you until you die. Dormant dreams stuffed inside you ferment, and not in an “oooh! Let’s make a case of Pinot!” kind of fermentation. In a festering, rotting kind of way. A stench-inducing way.

There is nothing more dispiriting (or whiffy, apparently) than burying a dream alive. It flails for a bit in its coffin (i.e., your head) and then it actually gives up pretty quickly. That’s the thing about dreams and goals and plans: they don’t put up much of a fight to stay alive. They have a shockingly short half-life. You’ve got to be the one to breathe life into them. You’ve got to be the one to summon up the courage and take one step towards it.

Living like we mean it means sitting at the loom. Maybe you don’t weave a lot today, but you sit in that creaky chair and you make weaving motions with your hands.

Please don’t let your dreams languish.

Please don’t defer your dreams for a “later” that’s contingent on a bunch of things beyond your control.

Please don’t rob yourself (and probably the rest of us) from the joy you’ll surely feel when you go after the future you’ve fathomed for yourself.

Please don’t flirt with your dreams… don’t lead them on with the winking promise of “one day.” Give your dreams the happy ending they deserve.

Please take a stand for the hopes and goals you have for yourself, because your life is too short to postpone your existence.

You only get 4,000 Mondays, and judging by the demographic who reads these posts, you’ve got less than half of those left, Sweet Cheeks.

Is today the day to weave a little bit?

Let’s stave off the stench for another day.

Sidenote on the doodle that accompanied this post: the term Dream Weaver makes me squeamish, so I was very careful to NOT draw a mystical figure crafting dreams from a glowing, celestial loom… gently spinning threads into strands of moonlight, feathers, wisps of cloud, musical notes, mini lanterns suspended from stardust, stars dripping like dew, or tiny floating scenes like children flying, a whale swimming in the sky, or a field of sunflowers. All of those things make me want to barf. (Well, the whale could’ve been cool.) I don’t have the inclination or talent to draw the whimsical-mystical stuff, and I don’t want to have to take LSD to get there. Circuitous moral of the story: even if the Dream Weaver term is full of fromage, GO AFTER YOUR DREAMS. Gary Weaver really wants you to, and so do I.