I like to think that in all of us, there is a dreamer. Not just the kind of dreams that you have when you close your eyes and hit the cherished REM state; not even the dreams that keep you moving through your years, reaching for something a little better than what you have. The former dissolve into mist when you wake, slipping through your fingers the harder you grasp for them. The latter are just as wispy, eventually drifting away into adulthood as you settle for what you have, the job that’s not quite what you envisioned, the significant other that falls short of perfection but at least she’s bearable, and still has sex with you once a week or so, and hey, she puts up with your poker nights and your leaving clothes strewn everywhere, so how bad can it be?

I don’t honestly know how many people even have dreams like the ones I still hold onto. They’re the dreams that drive the writers and filmmakers and comic book readers of the world. Daydreams, fantasies of being something bigger than life, superhuman, or maybe just more important than you feel. I know that these dreams come from being unhappy, from being insecure or lacking acceptance. At least, I know that’s true of me.

It’s why I read comic books for 30 plus years, why I still enjoy them when I can afford them. I think it’s why I was a fan of wrestling (stories of grandfathers aside — why else did I continue to watch until the last year or so?). It explains my enjoyment of summer popcorm action movies, and my reading choices.

There’s a lot of things that I really don’t like about my life. Don’t get me wrong; I accept my part in where I’ve ended up to date, and any responsibility that belongs to me for where I end up from here on out. This isn’t a fists-shaking at the sky and screaming for the reasons why, although I’m more than familiar with that urge. No, I’m aware and insistent that every action has consequences, and the only way to make your life better is to recognize those reactions and adapt your behavior.

Sometimes, it’s a nice thought that things might just reboot, that you might be able to start over, taking all the lessons you’ve learned from all your mistakes and applying them in a fresh and unknowing situation. It’s a world where all your sins are erased from memory, and you get that one last chance to be everything that you’ve realized that you wanted to be. No one holds anything from the past against you, because for one small moment, you’re reborn as a blank slate for the world, and maybe you’ve made enough mistakes that you can live out the rest of your time without making more.

When I watch LOST, I imagine that everyone who watches can see part of themselves in one of the characters. We want to think that maybe we’re tough and quick like Sawyer, or charismatic and a natural leader like Jack, or that we can turn our lives around for good like Sayid. I doubt anyone sees themselves in Charlie, or Boone or Shannon (because, fuck, they’re corpses, and how much fun is it to dream you’re dead?), or one of the nameless faces in the background of every episode.

If you hit the deserted island with 40 other impossibly attractive people, what would you change about yourself? Would you manage to finally stop being a manipulative person, no longer pulling other people’s strings to get what you want? Could you stop hurting other people due to your own greed and self-centeredness? Would you carefully watch the words coming out of your mouth, stopping the lies and the pettiness and all the negative traits you’ve recognized in yourself over the years, and start becoming the person that you have always dreamed of being?

Or are you one of those that believes that we are who we are, and no amount of self-awareness can ever change that, no matter what we hope or dream?

And if you find that you are able to change, are you doing it because it’s what you feel is right, or because it’s what other people want from you? Does that even matter?

And you say, be still my love
Open up your heart, let the light shine in
Don’t you understand I already have a plan
I’m waiting for my real life to begin
-Colin Hay, “Waiting For My Real Life to Begin”

I think what I hate most about living in this head from day to day is not really knowing a thing about who I am, not believing the good things about myself and not being able to embrace the rest because it’s not what people want to see or hear.

It’s a pretty horrific confusion to have inside.