The Nightmares I Carry
The Price of Inaction
Since the start of college, I have had a single good dream. I don't remember the dream itself, only that I woke up without the familiar weight of something unfinished. It slipped away too quickly, leaving only the sense that, for a moment, my mind had shown me something whole—something I was not meant to keep.
The others return night after night, but not in the way nightmares are expected to. There are no grotesque monsters, no embarrassing moments, and no teeth falling out. They are slower and heavier. Instead of a sudden terror, they are a weight that lingers long after morning comes.
Each dream follows the same script. I watch as something terrible unfolds, usually to someone I love, inflicted by someone or something I do not recognize. I am there, watching, but unable to prevent it. The details shift from night to night, but the core remains the same: I see what is coming, I know what needs to be done, and still, I fail. I either do not act, act too late, or my actions aren't enough against the evil that dominates my sleep. My nightmares do not make me the victim or the villain. They assign me a singular role—the one who was supposed to stop it, the one who didn't.
That is what disturbs me—not the violence itself, but my inability within it. I can accept loss. I can accept pain. What I cannot accept is knowing, after the fact, that I could have prevented it and failed. That something will happen to the people I love, and the answer will come just a moment too late. The things that matter most to me are fragile, not in theory but in reality. That fragility is mine to protect.
I am an optimist, but not in the passive sense. The world does not correct itself, nor does it move in the right direction on its own. The future must be built, shaped, and fought for. Belief is not enough. Hope is not enough. Even a strong vision is not enough. I do not trust the future we deserve in the hands of others. The only way to guarantee the future I want is to build it myself.
I believe God has a plan, but He does not move the pieces alone. Perhaps the highest task we face is to discern and align ourselves with that calling. Destiny is fixed, but the path to it is built by human hands. The future will come regardless, but what happens in the space between is not guaranteed. Every delay and every failure is a debt that must be paid. To know the will of God and shrink from it—to see the path and turn away—is the only failure I fear.
My deepest respect goes to those who see a better future and work relentlessly to make it real. They refuse to accept the world as it is and instead, labor to create the world as it should be. Even if I don't agree with their vision or their execution, I respect that they did something real. Vision without action is merely a daydream.
My dreams do not give me answers, only consequences. They do not comfort me, only remind me what is at stake. Harsh as it is, I value this reminder. The cost of inaction is everything. Nothing takes precedence over preventing the suffering of those that I love. These dreams both emerge from and reinforce the urgency I already feel.
Maybe one day I'll have good dreams, but I won’t wait for them. If peace must be earned, then I will spend my life paying the price.