Dreams & Dreams

on dreams, The Cranberries, Fleetwood Mac, and more dreams

Earlier this year, as I worked my way through the Best Picture nominees at the Oscars, I traced the relationship each film’s protagonist had with their personal dreams.

In F1, dreams are fulfilled when a retired driver returns to the racing world and gives his all for one final shot at victory.

In Marty Supreme, dreams are destroyed when Marty’s ambition turns into obsession that eventually consumes him.

And in Train Dreams, the dreams in question are no longer present desires, but abandoned ones lingering as ghosts of the past.

These films could not be more different, yet they all arrive at the same conclusion. Our dreams endure. Whether they fly, fall, or fade into the background, our dreams persist in our minds as manifestations of who we wish to be and the lives we wish we could live.

In the creative field, there’s an expectation that you should be fueled by big dreams. Everyone seems to have a north star guiding their way. A singular ambition that burns brightly to guide their way forward, illuminating even the darkest nights.

I write this as The Cranberries’ classic “Dreams” echoes throughout my bedroom. On the surface, this 90s dream pop anthem is a beautiful love song. Dolores O'Riordan sings about falling so completely in love with another person that the feeling becomes dreamlike.

“Oh, my life is changin’ every day in every possible way”

But for me, “Dreams” is also about the euphoria of positive change. It makes me think of the times where I took a leap of faith. Like deciding to quit the job that was draining me, or writing my first ever post on Substack. It reminds me of how life is about seizing opportunities, especially the ones that may not be conspicuous at first. The shimmering guitars and every one of O’Riordan’s unmistakable yodels embody that rush of becoming, when fantasy materializes into reality.

Of course, I also think of Faye Wong’s unforgettable Cantonese rendition in the 1994 Wong Kar-wai film Chungking Express. Likewise, the song speaks to that same celebration of possibilities and the morphing into something new. And for a moment, however fleeting, that feeling of newness is eternal.

Perhaps on the opposite end of the spectrum lies the other famous “Dreams”: Fleetwood Mac's 1977 smash hit from their timeless album Rumours. Lyrically, the Stevie Nicks-led classic is certainly more sinister. Nicks sings not from stepping into a dream like O’Riordan did, but from an unraveling of one, amidst the collapse of her relationship with bandmate Lindsey Buckingham.

“It’s only me who wants to wrap around your dreams, and have you any dreams you’d like to sell?”

Unlike O’Riordan’s wide-eyed wonder, Nicks delivers each line with weary acceptance. She understands that something precious is slipping away in real time, and there’s nothing she can do to stop it. The dream she once believed in has collided with reality and is now irreparably changed. “When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know,” she concludes.

Of course, I have dreams too.

I’m writing this as I pursue my biggest dream.

Perhaps I’ll be blessed with my Cranberries moment and feel like my life is changing every day. And I’ll be celebrating triumphantly like Javier Bardem did in F1.

Or maybe I’m Stevie Nicks and this dream of mine will fall apart. Maybe pursuing it will ruin me the way Marty Mauser's dreams ruined him. Maybe my reality will never quite live up to the fantasies I’ve built in my head.

I guess that’s the cost of daring to dream.

The moment you allow yourself to want something badly, you also accept the possibility of disappointment. Yet, the alternative feels worse. I don’t think I could live a life without believing in something.

I’ve always dreamed of working in the music industry. I’ll see to it now.

Cheers.