Dreamland

I was walking out to feed this morning in the dark, shoes already getting damp from the dew, leggings absolutely not doing anything useful against the cold, when I happened to look up.

And damn.

The sky was gorgeous.

Not just pretty. Not just one of those mornings where you think, oh, that's nice and keep walking.

I mean stop-in-your-tracks gorgeous.

The sky was clear and dark, the stars were sharp and sparkling, and this little crescent moon was just hanging there like somebody had placed it perfectly in the middle of everything.

For about two seconds, I just stood there and stared.

Then, naturally, I had to try to take a picture.

Which immediately became a whole situation because technology and I continue to have a strained relationship.

My phone would not focus. The moon looked like a fuzzy porch light. The stars basically disappeared. I was tapping random spots on the screen thinking, where the hell are one of my kids or students when I actually need them?

Somehow, by complete accident, I finally hit the magic spot and the whole thing cleared up.

I snapped the picture.

And it almost caught it.

Almost.

It caught the moon. It caught some of the stars. It caught the sky.

But it did not catch what it felt like to stand there looking at it.

Some things just do not translate into a picture.

Sometimes your eyes win.

And while I was standing there in the wet grass, halfway between the house and the barn, my brain did exactly what my brain always does when I get a quiet second.

It wandered.

Dreams.

Why dreams?

Hell if I know.

Maybe because it was dark and most normal people were probably still sleeping, off somewhere in la-la land actually dreaming instead of tromping across the yard to feed horses before daylight.

Livestock people have never really been promised that luxury.

We get wet socks, frozen buckets, windburn, mud, hay in places hay should never be, and the occasional sunrise that makes up for at least half of it.

Also, we are getting dangerously close to Carhartt bib season and I am not even a little bit mad about it. Those things are basically socially acceptable outdoor sleeping bags.

Anyway.

Dreams.

I hope everybody has them.

Not just the ones that happen when your brain decides to make an entire movie while you're asleep.

The other ones too.

The ones you think about while driving.

The ones you build in your head while you're folding laundry.

The ones that show up while you're sitting at your desk doing the job you're supposed to be paying attention to.

The ones you tell nobody about because they sound a little ridiculous when you say them out loud.

Dreams are funny because they can do two completely opposite things.

They can light a fire under you.

And they can scare the absolute shit out of you.

Sometimes dreams become the first rough sketch of a huge adventure. They turn into plans and road trips and businesses and careers and programs and places and people you haven't even met yet.

And sometimes our brains go the other direction.

They build nightmares.

What if I fail?

What if I look stupid?

What if I lose money?

What if people laugh?

What if I leave something comfortable and discover the next thing is worse?

What if I try and it doesn't work?

Same imagination.

Completely different destination.

And, to some degree, we get to decide which one we keep feeding.

I have always been a dreamer.

Probably an excessive one.

My brain builds entire damn worlds.

Movies.

Plans.

Conversations.

Programs.

Businesses.

Memories that haven't happened yet.

Things that could be.

Things that used to be.

Things that might happen if everything lined up just right.

Sometimes the dream is completely realistic.

Sometimes even I have to sit back and think, Girl. That is a stretch.

And then approximately five seconds later another part of my brain goes, Yeah, but wouldn't it be really freaking cool if it worked?

And there we are.

Planning.

I have cried in dreams. I've laughed in them. I've woken up shaking. I've woken up sweating and scared.

And I've also woken up, grabbed my phone before I was even fully awake, and started typing an idea into my notes because something clicked while I was asleep.

Some of my favorite ideas have started that way.

But somewhere along the line, I think dreaming changed a little.

Or maybe the world around it did.

Because we now live inside everybody else's dreams too.

We scroll TikTok and Pinterest and Facebook and Instagram and watch other people living lives that look like the lives we think we want.

The farmhouse.

The business.

The body.

The relationship.

The perfectly organized pantry.

The vacation.

The horse property.

The career.

The money.

The beautiful kitchen that somehow never has a cereal bowl sitting in the sink.

We save the posts.

We make the boards.

We send the reels.

We say someday.

Someday I'll go there.

Someday I'll build that.

Someday I'll start that.

Someday I'll look like that.

Someday I'll be brave enough.

And there is nothing wrong with dreaming.

I think we need it.

But I also think there is a point where dreaming can become another form of hiding.

We can spend so much time staring into someone else's life that we forget there is a real one sitting right in front of us.

A messy one.

An imperfect one.

One with dishes in the sink and bills on the counter and kids yelling for a snack and horses waiting to be fed.

But still ours.

And maybe that is where dreams and reality are supposed to meet.

Because for all the ways people complain about the world now, there is something pretty incredible about living in this particular time.

The barriers between an idea and making something real have gotten smaller.

Not gone.

Let's not pretend money, time, location, childcare, health, resources and plain old life do not matter.

They absolutely do.

But access to knowledge and people and opportunity is different now.

You can learn damn near anything from your phone.

You can connect with somebody across the country who knows exactly what you need to know.

You can start a business from your kitchen table.

Build a website in your pajamas.

Teach yourself a skill.

Write the book.

Make the product.

Start the program.

Apply for the job.

Take the class.

Tell your story.

Find your people.

There are people walking around right now living inside something that used to exist only inside their head.

And I think that is so damn cool.

At some point they took the dream and put it on paper.

Then they did something.

Probably not perfectly.

Probably not confidently.

Probably not with enough money.

Probably not knowing exactly what the hell they were doing.

But they moved.

And slowly, this invisible thing became something real.

Something they could touch.

Something they could experience.

Something they could stand inside and say, Holy shit. I made this.

I know that feeling.

Because I've done it too.

Dale Rosa Equine used to live mostly in my head.

An idea.

A place.

A way of teaching.

A way of building horse kids into capable humans while they learned how to ride.

And somehow, over time, it became real.

It became kids and horses and muddy boots and late nights and lessons and rodeos and tears and frustration and victories and inside jokes.

It became relationships.

It became a program that brings me more joy than I probably know how to explain.

And even that is not the whole dream.

I have bigger ones sitting behind it.

The Step-Up Foundation is one of them.

I can see pieces of it.

I know what I want it to do.

I know who I want it to help.

I have pages of ideas for it.

But the timing is not here yet.

And that has been another lesson for me.

Dreaming does not mean everything has to happen right now.

Sometimes the dream arrives before the resources do.

Sometimes it arrives before the time.

Sometimes before the money.

Sometimes before you are actually ready to carry it.

That does not mean the dream is dead.

It just means it is not time yet.

There is a big difference.

So you keep writing things down.

You keep learning.

You keep meeting people.

You keep making connections.

You keep building tiny pieces whenever life gives you enough room.

You keep the damn thing alive.

Because otherwise it really will stay exactly where it started.

In your head.

And I think that might be what that little crescent moon got me thinking about this morning.

Some things are going to feel too big to capture.

Too beautiful for a picture.

Too complicated to explain.

Too far away to understand exactly how you are ever going to reach them.

Take the picture anyway.

Write it down anyway.

Make the call.

Send the email.

Save the money.

Take the class.

Ask the question.

Start before you feel ready.

Screw it up.

Learn something.

Try again.

Dream.

Dream your ass off.

Just do not spend your whole life building a beautiful world in your head that your feet never get to walk through.

At some point, put your shoes on.

Even if they're about to get soaking wet in the dew.

And start walking toward it.