Dream A Little Dream Of… Me?

Coulda. Shoulda. Woulda. The words of regret.


I coulda been a star. I had all the talent and potential. 

I shoulda tried harder to get discovered, instead of waiting, hoping and praying to be discovered…one day. A day that never arrived. I had talent and potential but lacked opportunity, but I allowed that to stop me, and I shouldn’t have. I made excuses of not having the right connections, not having enough money to record a demo – and I didn’t… but I should have done more to get those connections, I should have begged, borrowed and stolen to get the money for the demo (okay, maybe not stolen). I always had plenty of wishbone but was always lacking in backbone!

I woulda entertained millions instead of handfuls. I would have had money and been able to provide for the children I chose to bring into my world. I would not now feel the weight of so much of the talent and potential being wasted. 

Yes, I am not going to be one of those people who lie and say they have no regrets. 


Thankful. Hopeful. Determined. The words of a Dreamer yet unawake. Some might call that delusion, or deception. Yesterday, at church, we were encouraged by the pastor to not chase a “pipe dream”.  But my dream was never a pipe dream. My dream was always, as long as I had youth and talent, definitely in the realm of possibilities. My dream is now a flicker, and no more than that… and, of the three of those words, I must admit that I could be a whole lot more of the latter two. But, my dream could never have been, or never be, called a pipe dream. And, it is a dream that, albeit just a flicker, doesn’t merely lie there languishing, waiting to die gracefully; no, it still gasps and fights for breath.

Is it too late?  Honestly? For worldwide celebrity, yes. I am definitely not in any delusion over that. Age and health as it is. I am no longer the little girl with the incredible voice. I am no longer the young woman with the incredible voice. I am now the tired, middle-aged woman that can still sing and still loves to perform. But, really, I ceased to “need” such a vast audience a long time ago. I am, truly, very thankful for the handfuls when I get them. I am really okay with limited “fame”…as long as it happens and as long it continues (without the stops and starts), that is…I’m happy as long as I am known – and will keep being known – for who I am and what I do/can do. What I do need, however, is a regular audience. What I mean is, I need a lot more frequency (and, paid gigs again would be nice, too…back to that wishing I could provide for my family with the only thing I can do)!  Oh, yeah, and I do still need the money to record a proper CD. And, so, this is where those latter two words come in, being hopeful and determined to (at least try to) make that happen.

I need help. I still can’t do this on my own. It’s all hoping against hope. And, as I say, I think my determination is still greatly lacking – I am still more wishbone than backbone – but the determination is there. The voice will be heard…and not forgotten.

Last night I had a handful, and it was good. A friend of mine remarked how happy I looked. I told him that I am happiest and feel my best when I am performing. It was the best I had felt since the last time I had the chance to do what I both love, and am good at, doing. I so thoroughly enjoy performing. Not just singing. I do a lot of singing. And, I do enjoy singing…but, there is a certain high I get, a need I have, to perform – to “sell”, to “deliver”, a song.  And that is not a need that is met – and, indeed, should not be – by what I do as a worship leader.  What I get from leading worship is a hope that I have helped people engage and fellowship with the Most High.  The focus there is not on me – I don’t want it to be – the focus is on the Lord, and His goodness and grace and our response to it. I love leading worship, and I feel I have been called and anointed to do it. It is my ministry, and I don’t do it just to have something in the realm of music to do! No, certainly not. But, there is a difference. And, I am simply being honest that I have a need in me to perform…because the ability is there and the passion is there.

Yes, ability and passion I have in abundance. It’s the opportunities I crave. And, whenever I do get even a small opportunity, what it really does is just make me want MORE!

Last night I opened our little programme with Dream A Little Dream Of Me. It’s such a delicious song to do – fun and flirty and vocally challenging all in one, a delight. It went over relatively well, whether or not it inspired anyone who was there (other than Jamie, of course) to dream of a certain redheaded contralto. But I am relatively certain that it is the redheaded contralto herself who was the biggest dreamer there… dreaming a dream of herself. I had that handful, and it was good, indeed, BUT, I am left aching… wondering when the next handful will be. It’s sort of like a one night stand… (right, ahem, I’ll just leave that analogy right there for ya).

So, here, while I am waiting, waiting in the wings, for that next performance – the next hit, the next high, the next…(oh, yeah, we left that analogy, so sorry) – I will leave my reading public (yet another “handful”) with this:

“Sweet dreams ’til sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave the worries behind you. And in your dreams, whatever they be, dream a little dream of me.”  





We Never Actually Grow Up…

All we do is change location.  But, I will get to that in a moment (or three). I’ve been prodded by one of my most faithful readers to write something (she insists that my blog is “lonely”….thus, here I am, trying to cheer up my lonely blog).  I have had things in my mind to write, and I have even had time to write them (sometimes), but I haven’t had the energy to do so (I shared in my last – very short – post about how exhausted I am).  Like this dear reader (a blogger herself), I don’t want to blog solely for the sake of blogging; I always want what I share to be well-written, I want to make a point, and I always endeavour for my posts to be something more than narcissism given a playground. I simply haven’t been in a place where I could write something that is up to my standards. 


Today, I am more pressed for time than I am with lack of energy (although, that is still a factor), and l am concerned about the lack of time and energy affecting the quality of what I write, but I am still determined to write something of substance here today.  And, I do have an observation to share. 


One of the wearying factors in my life at the moment is the daily school run: walking my youngest daughter to school and picking her up.  However, this is not the time or the place for me to go into detail as to the whys and wherefores of my exhaustion with this situation. That’s not what this post is about. Rather, it is that wait in the schoolyard, before the doors open and the kids go in (or come back out), that I want to discuss here.

Watch the kids, for just a moment. What do you see?

Well, there are the cliques of the popular students, there are the nerds (we are a bit too young to have “jocks” at the moment – but if we were waiting outside an older class that group would be seen, as well), we have the watchers who observe – by choice they stand alone and take it all in, and we have the outcasts that are alone because they are outcasts. We have the bullies who intimidate others because they are so insecure themselves.

Now, you will forgive me for being jaded by life experience, I’m sure….  but, stop looking at the kids, and look at the parents. Guess what?

Every one of us never left highschool (some of us never left kindergarten)… we just moved classrooms. We now have the classroom of life. And, over there, clustered together, are the Popular people, with their schemes and their snide looks at everyone else that doesn’t quite fit in.  And, there are the Observers, who stand back and watch, and wear their superiority like a cloak to protect them, comfortable in their isolation and the superiority that masks their pain. Then, we have the Outcasts, and the Popular folks see the pain on their faces, and either don’t care about it or, worse, they relish and do their best to enforce it. The Observers see the pain and have some compassion, but not enough to move them from their protected places of hyper-vigilance. And, occasionally, a bully still shows up to these gatherings and works to make everyone feel small so they can feel big. And, so the story goes on infinitum ad nauseum.  

From this, I am sure you can tell the group to which I belong. As I said near the beginning of this, I have an observation to share.  What I don’t have is a solution.  I’d like to think that as we get older we actually grow up but, in fact, it’s like a line in a Marillion song that says, “Some people live and learn, others only live and live.”  I’d like to amend that line to say, “the great majority only live and live”. I have always seen this – wherever I have been (the workplace, the coffee shop, the grocery store, and, most sadly of all, the church – ouch!), but nowhere shows it so excrutiatingly clear as in a primary school (elementary school, for my US readers) schoolyard. Because, really, the only difference between the parents and the children is height; the behaviours are exactly the same! 

Sometimes I get to share private jokes with my fellow watchers.  Oh, we don’t talk. It’s just a look between us. We are really the only ones who consciously acknowledge all this taking place and, every once in a while, we get rewarded with some delightful stupidity from the Populars that makes us smile knowingly. This happened the other day and I really had to fight the urge to laugh out loud. We watch the game – the sometimes intricate, sometimes utterly absurd dance – and we tell ourselves that we watch it all from a distance when, in actuality, we are all part of it – each one playing our part in this ever-repeating scene. 

It’s rather a sad commentary, I know.  And, I don’t have a positive thought to leave this on. Maybe my next post will be a bit more uplifting.  But, I don’t feel this is quite finished. Oh well… whether it is or not, I don’t have the time to belabour it now – I have taken too much time here as it is!! And, all too soon it will be time to walk to the school – and watch – again.