Mine, too, involves travel. When I was younger I always wanted to travel, and did so as much as my jobs and budget would allow. I frequently went solo and would not let lack of a partner stop me. The one trip I did not make was the big one - a trip around the world, open ended.
When I was younger, I had the time, but no resources. Now I have the means, but no time. Also, it seems the world is a smaller place than when I was young, maybe it is just my perception. Seems there are a lot of places not safe to go any more.
Have you heard of Wilderness Inquiry? They run camping & wilderness trips for disabled people, and they may have something that would work for you. Oddly enough, it may be easier for you to go camping once you’re in a wheelchair…
I wanted to be a ballerina. As a kid, I always felt like I *needed *to dance, but there was no money for lessons. A couple of neighbor girls took ballet, and they gave their old costumes to my sister and me. I used to swipe my mom’s classical records and play them on the crappy record player in the basement. I’d put on the foofy net tutus and the hand-me-down slippers and dance for myself. I knew all the feet and hand positions, I knew the names of some of the steps, and I tried so hard. But eventually, I gave up. With 5 kids, there’s no way my folks could have afforded lessons.
When I got to college, I took ballet as one of my PE requirements, but by then, I was too old, and it was embarrassing to be in the studio with girls who’d had training. To this day (I’m nearly 60) I truly believe if I’d had the chance, I could have been a good dancer. I’ve done a lot of things in my life, and I have never stopped learning, but my inner ballerina will never get out.
When I was a kid, all I wanted to be was an architect. I was talented in both art and math and other related subjects, so architecture was a no-brainer for me. So I went to college to study architecture. During my first year I was at the top of my class. Then I started getting interest in other things, mainly Philosophy, and wound up changing my major. In fact I changed my major 4 times, and never got enough credits in any one thing to get a degree. Now, looking back and looking at the type of buildings that are going up, I know I would have been a damn good architect, even a great one. I eventually became an artist, after spending (wasting) a few decades in publishing and advertising.
I lived in NYC for 25 years, from the age of 24 to 49. My parents still lived in a Cleveland suburb. In the early 90s my father was diagnosed with Alzheimers, and my mother cared for him single-handedly. But he became more than she could handle, so I relocated back here to help out. Shortly after the move, he passed away. So I spent the following ten years caring for my mother with her own health issues, until she also passed away. When I had left New York, I had every intention of returning when I was no longer needed in Cleveland. I loved living there, and had no intention of spending the rest of my life here. But with both of my parents gone, and being 60 at the time of my mother’s death, relocating back to NY was out of the question. I now had much more “stuff” that I could ever fit in a small NY apartment . . . plus the fact that my partner (who lives next door) would have to relocate as well. I came to the conclusion that New York is a great place to live if you’re either young or rich, and I am neither. So unless something monumental happens, this is where I’ll stay. I loved living in NYC, but that’s in the past.
Since I was about 12, my life’s dream has been to live alone. I’ve just never been in a position to afford it. Since moving out of my childhood home 10 years ago, I’ve lived with roommate after roommate. I lived with fellow students in college, my mom after I dropped out, then a series of working stiffs after I became a working stiff. I get paid enough to afford my own place now, except my car payment is ridiculous. I was planning on getting my own place once the car was paid off in 2014, but then I met a guy. My next move will likely be from my current condo (with roommate) to my boyfriend’s place in the next year. I anticipate being with him for the rest of my life.
As far as the dream goes, I’ve decided that long-term happiness in a relationship with a good man and compatible partner is more important to me than getting a shot at living alone. I’m making my peace with it. And if things don’t work out with him in the long term, well, then I have another chance at my dream.
As an aside, I know this is pretty much the least worldly, stupidest-sounding dream in the world. But I grew up with a mom who didn’t think privacy was important for children. There were no closed doors in her house. I didn’t have a latch on my bedroom door, much less a lock, and got in trouble anytime I tried to barricade it closed.
Anyway. As long as I have a place I can bug out to, I should be fine living with my boyfriend.
Well, now, someone upthread reminded me that there was a time I really wanted to play the guitar. I took lessons and practiced endlessly, usually alone in the kitchen when everybody else was mercifully asleep. I finally figured out that if I worked really, really hard for a very long time, I might be able to become mediocre. I never was even able to get it properly tuned; apparently although I enjoy music a lot, I just don’t have the talent for it. The good part is that now I am more in awe than ever of people who do.
My mom really, really didn’t believe in privacy for her children either (to this fucking day actually…but don’t get me started). And I’m a person that needs quite a bit of privacy, so I know what you mean.
Three regrets: Two of them were just failed relationships with girl I really liked, and the other was not becoming an All-American in wrestling. I wrestled for 16 years of my life and I was plenty good enough to be an AA. But when I got my chance, I choked.
Back in high school in the 1970s, I wish I had tried out for the football team. I am a frustrated QB. My best friend back then was on the team and he often said my arm was better than the QBs they had. I could throw, I could really throw! But I was intimidated about trying out, so I never did.
Through the years I QB’d many casual teams: college intramurals, in the military, city flag league teams, work teams. Man, I could throw! I could zip it 70 yards - not a lob, but a laser, a seed. I was accurate, put good touch on the ball, could lay it in nicely and softly for a crossing receiver’s hands, could throw a bullet in the seam before the window closed. I could throw! Perfect spirals, and there’s nothing prettier than a perfect spiral in flight, finding its intended target, exactly where it needed to be.
I wish I’d tried out for high school football, way back when. I wish I’d gone on and played in college. Who knows where that would have led me?
I wish I’d been more responsible in my 20s (and less responsible in some ways). I made pretty good money and basically wasted it all. I had fun, so it’s not a total wash, but I wish now, with a better but lower-paying job, I’d have had the discipline to save for a trip to Europe & Asia and had managed to save some money.
I always thought I would get the chance to live in another country, France or India or somewhere in the UK, but that probably won’t happen after all. Bummer.
I met him once, at a convention. The convention head, Doohan, and two convention goers(one of which was me) had dinner. We latter two had won the drawing for “dinner with a con guest”
Grant you, it was only the once, and he may have been having a bad day. But he seemed kind of stuck on himself, and pretty much ignored the two of us con attendees, speaking almost entirely with the con official.
I always wanted to have a bakery. I love to bake and I think I’m good at it, at least I’ve been told so repeatedly.
But I have no experience in food service of any kind, not even a McJob as a teenager. I don’t have the startup money, and I know I wouldn’t want to work the hours I would need to put in.
So I’ll just keep dreaming about the cute little cupcake shop, and continue foisting my baked goodies off onto friends and family.
There is a small town we visit from time to time in the gold country of the Sierra foothills. On the main street, which has been touristified with antique shops, restaurants, wine tasting, olive oil tasting, and candy stores; there is a tiny bakery run by a couple of guys. They make excellent muffins and savory breads. I imagine they start work at 4 AM, and when the store is sold-out each weekend day by around noon, they close up and go home. I am not even sure if they are open all week.
Keep the dream alive!! But, skip the cupcake craze, as they are going the way of Krispy Kreme.
Med school. Bodies and how they work fascinate me. My parents nagged me to go into some kind of science, but the also convinced me that being a doctor was absolutely out of the question - too expensive, too much work, too much discipline, etc.
I tell myself that I’m probably quite a bit happier now than I would have been had I taken that route, but I’ll never know. I’m 45 now, and even if I thought I still had the time, there’s no way I’d take on that kind of debt now.
My dream was pretty much to develop games. Found out that though I am a decent programmer, I am better with web/business logic stuff than maths and graphics processing. I could go indie, but between rents and tuition loans, I still need a job to put food on the table.
There’s a way for me somewhere, but my depressed mind is not just letting me see it or muster up enough hope to try.
On a unrelated note, sometimes I would dream that I was hanging out with a bunch of friends and we could get along very well. Only when I woke up did I realise that I can’t recall their faces and I don’t know their names. I didn’t find a clique to click with when younger, and now past the age of university and school, I doubt I ever would. It’s getting harder to find friends as I grow older - not that it was any easy when I was young.
Getting a Bachelor’s degree. I walked away 5 credits short of an associates degree and am at the age now where I can’t imagine sitting in a class with a bunch of teenagers.