Who Fashions Our Dreams?

Background Mind Noise as a Prequel

Irksome self-help, life coaching and other coddle coziness

It appears, that I may be heading into the forbidden rant zone. However, I shan’t use any swear words, or buzz words so my cheery bedlam-rant is more of an internal dialogue that got away from my white-knuckled fist, before it could be waxed lyrical. Talk to the now open hand. <insert emoji of choice>.

What is going on with the part of society that has as much as food and shelter? It’s not enough- granted BUT it is 100% more than what half the worlds’ population does NOT have (or so we are led to believe). We have forgotten to see what we DO have.

All this propheteering and “subversion” so that we the lonely, the lost, the marginalized, the dis-eased can be lifted from our blinkered doldrums, quoting freedom of speech while slandering and maligning from our perpetually half empty glasses to be cajoled into chasing our dreams; erstwhile the majority of naked humans live “dreams” of drops of water and a fistful of food.

I cannot fathom how the “entitled” (quote marks, because if you think you aren’t and you are reading this you most definitely are) “minority” is so devoid of self-awareness, and so focussed on self-centeredness, that we need to have <insert favourite pep talker or feel good aid here> tell us how to pull our heads out from where the sun cannot shine.

Pep talkers do whatever they can to help our rather dis-eased and out of sorts entitled society. I state again, if you are reading this you are entitled compared to MANY.

Please do get over it quickly

I am not trying to cast shade to undermine the efforts of the bring good cheer evangelist. No. Well maybe a dab.

I do question this mode of life “coaching”.

Love yourself first- really? CHASE your dreams, no matter what. Okay.
I can guarantee that MOST any person living outside of western “civilisation” or, those who do not pander to western mores; if they heard such words would immediately and with stealth deliver at least two tight-slaps (literal or metaphorical).

Yes, I bear in mind that there is context to respect and consider, I have peek-a booed both. I still ask this…

Who Fashions Our Dreams?

Mostly it seems like we grow up as mimics. If one does happen to grow to 7-feet tall, it’s almost impossible to not be corralled into something like basketball. What if the 7-footer wants to play the harpsichord? What of the 5 foot 8 incher who wants nothing more but to play basketball. Dream as he may, good as he may be- chase the dream actively, bladdy blah, is s/he really going to achieve his “dream”?

“Anything is possible” is a sick old mantra because what gets left off of this mantra is “if the MATRIX allows”. We are born into a world that is set up to FAIL us. The self-help books are stacked up on the very top shelf. You have to be over 6-ft to reach those books or ask for help. Irony?

I’m particularly grumpy because I’m taking a good look around and all I HEAR/SEE is lip-service and rhetoric.

Cause and effect in self help only works if you have a full belly and a “constitution” that not only allows but encourages one to complain about how grotesque ones life has turned out because of this, that, and some other. As the self-help guru is decorated as a dream catcher whisperer, I think of Godbless and his “dream”.


Godbless. (I don’t know if he is still alive today). At age 16, he had a dream, it was simply to take nurturing care of his mother and sisters. In order to do so he had to earn some money. No really. He needed money. (Avocado sans toast are a dime a dozen where he lives). No joke.

He was not formally schooled, he could read and write. (He was literate and for some, that is a big dream, not a right). That put him at a disadvantage (of course). No matter. Instead of becoming a petty thief and/or turning tricks, he went to the most dangerous and easiest place he could find a job. It was the only place that would greedily give him a job, no questions asked. Strong, young, agile. They could use him.

He went to the mines. The mines where they mine “blue/purple stones”. Apparently one of the world’s most precious stones, found in only ONE place on this planet (or they’ll have us believe).

The mines owned by foreign “investors”, paid an equivalent of $15 per month, but they didn’t hire monthlies. It was a daily death defying chore that one dreamily voluntarily signed up for.

One had to stand in line and offer up their strong, lean bodies to enter the death tunnels, in search of the mother lode, called “tumbo” or “stomach”.

On gaining entry to the mine area, the young dreamer would notice that it looked like a maximum security prison. (Not that he would know what a maximum security prison looked like, but he would know that this was not a nice place).

Razed and barbed wire, walls, electric fences, armed thugs, metal detectors, tazers, and, the lords of the mines the “kaburu”, watching like hyenas from their ivory towers.

He would be stripped naked, all his orifices would be inspected. He would be given his clothes back and make the harrowing journey into the belly of the earth. He was chasing a dream. A simple dream.

The mines, were NOT dynamited nor constructed with the safety of the indentured servitude in mind. There are thousands of able bodied men willing to risk life and limb because, they TRULY have no other choice. BUT, they have dreams.

Thus, daily (if allowed, by way of clear orifices and such), these young men enter the stone graves. They must be the bravest, most dedicated, loyal beings in our species.

Tiffany dreams of the blue stones on all her fingers, someone has to make it come true, might as well be Godbless.

Godbless went home, 16 hours in the mine. On his way out, he was stripped naked, hosed, inspected, and paid his “per diem”. Less than the cheapest “tall” at star*ucks.

Godbless continued to chase his dream, he began to realise that this was no dream. This was a nightmare. How could it be that working like a dog everyday would result in exhaustion for literally nothing. His sisters and his mother each earned than what he earned. They were proud of him anyway. They worried about him. He hung his head, he cried. He knew that a single polished stone that his “godblessed” hands pulled from the mine would yield $100–300 per karat ex-mine. He would have to work 10 months in the mines to earn dream math. He was exhuming loads of those stones everyday and depositing them with the foreigners. Through his tears, he pledged, one day, he would manage to rent one of his own tunnels and find the tumbo for himself and his family. Oh yes! Chase your dream, Godbless. (typed in sarcasm font, for the dreamers who need an alarm clock to wake up and refuse breakfast because…)

Some months into his “career”, the tunnel that Godbless was working in collapsed on itself, it was unsupported, untrussed. (defn: cannot be trusted). There were many other young men in that tunnel with him.

They did not all die. That was good. At least one dreamer called Godbless survived. His dream was intact.

Paralysed from the neck down. His mother Mama Halima, raised her hands and said to me with tears in her eyes “bad luck”. I asked her what the kaburu(s) had done to compensate, she said, $30. I asked if she could take them to court. She said one word “poor”. She wept to her knees.

What happens to Godbless when she and his sisters are at work? I asked. She said, we leave him on the floor at home. We clean him up and feed him when we come home and before we leave. God does the rest. Not drugs, not shrinks, not doctors, no life coaches, no pep-talkers, nothing of that sort- just God. Faith. Dreams.

He was dreaming and he did EVERYTHING he could against all odds.

I know that somewhere in the world, people are wearing the blue stones that Godbless pulled from the earth. The price paid for those stones (that is what they are, shiny stones) can not justify what happens to young men like Godbless who “chase their dreams” Many say and believe otherwise. It’s all debatable. Why?

There are BILLIONS of people who work harder, dream harder and human harder than anyone any of us will ever encounter.

They do EXACTLY what self help coaches and gurus preach, without reading Books or chanting “help myself mantras”. Their dreams are RARELY if ever achieved.

What do we have to say to them?

(Not a rhetorical question)

I personally would rather get the 2 or 5 tight slaps than utter the words “Chase your dreams.”