Dreams shoved in the closet

Langston Hughes once wrote a poem with the title "Dream Deferred". In a simple and straightforward way, he asked what becomes of dreams if they are set aside. I also thought about it. What happens when we stop believing and start acting like a unit in the grand scheme of the Matrix?

With childlike astuteness, Hughes wondered if dreams wrinkle up and grow useless. I guess they do. The human race is a species set above the rest because of its dreams. Though of late some of these dreams have become terrible nightmares.

We hope and dream big. It is the stuff of our movies, our conversations, our music, our goals in life. We are happy about thoughts that are yet far off, we await a future that we look forward to with anticipation.

We never seem to grow tired of them. It is after all free for everybody to dream greatly.
John Keating, the English professor in the movie "Dead Poet's Society" was right when he said that "it is in their dreams that men are free, it always was and will always thus be"

The bad thing ( I think) about growing up is that some adults become so rigid about life and stiff about its rules. I guess they are just as fed up and burned out like me-about life, about the government, about things that don't happen when you expect them to. Yet others admirably have become childlike in many ways.