A Mulligan

Not by any stretch of the imagination could I be considered a dreamer. I find that unfortunate.

In a quantum world all conceivable outcomes are not only possible, they exist. According to the principles of leaping there are infinite ways every one of our movies can end, so why not watch them all? Or hold firm until the one you want comes round?

It’s the old Judy Garland song about rainbows and dreams coming true if we only believe … Sadly, past my childhood stint with Saint Nick and the Tooth Faery, this is not me. I blame being number 4 in my sibling lineup, school yard bullies and the men I have kissed … things that impacted my naivete, the place where wishes are made.

Errors in judgement aside, I find even the hint of a want or wish rising to the surface distressing. It’s the unmasking of a vulnerability that I cannot quickly recover when rejected. An unrequited desire for something or someone turned into a source for another’s fodder.

Eh, maybe I’m being dramatic. Perhaps I am overly uptight to avoid even the simplest of dreams like playing the If I won the lottery, this is what I’d do game… But I’m going for a healthier explanation and chalk it up to being realistic and self-preserving.

As an aside: Not without a bit of crazy, I do tend to believe that when I want something I’ll jinx myself right out of the race.

Instead, what I try to do is make a better day out of yesterday. In doing so, this makes me something akin to a dreamer but based in the reality of insurance payments and groceries and world events. It’s both a high and low bar, depending upon what human interaction I encountered in the previous 24 hours.

I give myself what is called a golfer’s Mulligan. A do over for a miss hit ball. And in turn, it grants me the opportunity to look forward to today.

So though I cannot dare to dream, at the very least I can strive to hope.

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