There is a quiet shelf in every heart where once upon a time, dreams sat wrapped in golden paper. They all glowed with the innocence of youth, the daring of belief, and the melody of hope. But somewhere between growing up and paying endless bills, plus experiencing disappointments and not meeting deadlines, many of us stopped visiting that shelf. We told ourselves we were “being realistic.” We called it maturity, wisdom, and obligation.
But deep down, what we really did was bury the dream before it even had a chance to mature. The truth is, dreams don’t expire; people just stop opening them. When we were younger, our dreams spoke loudly. “I’ll build something that changes lives.” “I’ll sing until the entire world listens.” “I’ll travel, teach, heal, and invent things.” But life in its unusual and instantaneous pace whispers back with force: “Pay the rent.” “Keep the job.” and “Stay safe.”
And so, the voice of our big dreams grows faint while the hum of routine grows louder. We trade wonder for wages, and conviction for comfort. It is not because we stopped caring, but the world taught us to survive before it taught us to live. Yet every so often, a familiar ache stirs within us; a tug of memory that reminds us of the person we were before the noise came. That feeling is our soul knocking on the shelf again.
On the shelf of abandoned and ignored ambitions, dreams age like wine, not milk. The world is unjust when it says “you’re too old,” “too late,” or “too far gone.” Visions and optimism don’t spoil; they mature. They wait patiently for courage to return. The fantasies you had at 25 may be wiser at 45. The fire may not roar as it once did, but it still blazes steadily, deeply rooted and refined by experience, humility, and solidity because some dreams are not meant for the speed of our youth.
They are designed for the strength of endurance. So, open that shelf. Dust off the old notebooks, the forgotten melodies, and all the unfulfilled ventures. Then you may discover that your dream is still alive but it's just simply waiting for you to remember its name. It takes bravery to reopen the box and admit you’ve neglected yourself. It also requires even more courage to start again.
But the greatest tragedy is not in failing, it is in never returning to what once made your soul sing. Revisiting a plan is not about quitting your job or rewriting your past. It’s about re-evaluating your “why.” So start small, and sketch that idea again. Write the first line, enrol for that course, call that your mentor, post that reel, and send that email because every act of courage feeds a forgotten dream.
The definition of success is not always how fast you climb to the top. Sometimes, it's in how faithfully and consistently you carried your dream through storms that matter. It’s also in knowing that even when the world overlooks your melody, you will keep on humming it in secret until time and opportunity give you the stage again.
✍π½ William Z. Bozimo
Veteran Journalist | Columnist | National Memory Keeper
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