How do you ‘dream like there’s no tomorrow’?
Who better to be encouraged to hope than new grads at the precipice of their destinies?
“Dream like there’s no tomorrow.”
This was the graduation slogan at a high school my brother-in-law taught in years ago. At the time, he recalls, neither he nor any of his fellow staffers saw a problem with this chosen rally cry. Indeed, on first listen, it sounded like any other motivational cliché: “dance like no one’s watching”, “put your best foot forward”, or “better out than in” (that last one is more fart-specific than grad-related, but an astute tenet just the same).
It wasn’t until recently, years after that voted-upon catchphrase was painted across all the banners, printed on all the graduation regalia, that my sister questioned him.
“Dream like there’s no tomorrow?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he replied hesitantly, confused by the enthusiasm of his wife’s question.
“Dream like there’s no tomorrow!” she repeated, less a question this time; more an exorbitantly proud exclamation.
He paused. Then the confusion melted from his face, replaced by the anticipation of a belated yet deserved ribbing.
“How exactly does one ‘dream’ like there’s no tomorrow?'” She put the “dream” in air quotes.
“Would you try really hard to stay awake because this is the last time you’ll be alive? And if you do fall asleep, what do your dreams look like? You obviously know there’s no tomorrow because the expression implies that your knowledge thereof is directing your dreams so… Is it more of a nightmare featuring explosions or zombies or giant sinkholes? Would an equally effective graduation slogan be ‘Good luck falling asleep, you will not live to see another day?'”
He got the point. And I completely agreed with her. We had a chuckle. But I kept thinking about it...
We can appreciate where the minds of those teens were; somewhere in the vicinity of “love like there’s no tomorrow” and “dare to dream!” The “dream” part was imperative, of course; after all, to dream implies to hope. Who better to be encouraged to hope than a group of new grads at the precipice of their destinies?
And we get the whole concept of “____ like there’s no tomorrow.” Tim McGraw speared me in all the feels with his 2004 jam, “Live Like You Were Dying.” To poorly summarize: a young man (let’s call him Doug) runs into an older man (probably Leonard) who’s been given a terminal diagnosis. Doug asks Leonard how he reacted when he got the news. Leonard then discloses quite an impressive list of feats he’d accomplished, armed with fresh knowledge of imminent death: skydiving. Mountain climbing. Bull-riding, to name a few (full disclosure: those were the only adventures he mentioned. But if I know Leonard the way I think I do, that rascal did a lot more, he's just not saying.)
Ol’ Leo became a better friend. Better husband. Better person. He forgave all those who had wronged him. Then he watched a Mother Nature-lovin’ eagle soar across the sky. Like a boss.
So a couple of things I know for sure:
1. Leonard is mad fit and I question his prognosis
2. Leonard is on some good SSRIs.
Also, I doubt my reaction to a terminal diagnosis would be quite so idealistic or physically daunting (vigorous physical exercise will make nary an appearance on my deathsentence reaction montage). I wonder if my innate response to such news would work so well in song…*ahem*
[If you know the tune of Tim McGraw’s original chorus, it's important that you sing this aloud to loved ones and total strangers alike.]
Live Like You Were ACTUALLY Dying - Version 1:
I went temporarily deaf, then I Hyperventilated,
I yelled every vulgar curse word out the hallway to no one.
Then I
Spaced out for hours and I barfed on ol’ doc’s desk and I
Fainted twice and then took up smoking.
And I promise, son, when this happens to you
It’ll be worse than you imagined.
Live Like You Were ACTUALLY Dying - Version 2:
I went aboard the doctor, then he
Called for security, Then I realized what had happened and then grovelled at his feet. Then I
Stopped eating and I ugly cried for three weeks while I
Planned a really sad funeral soundtrack.
And I hope someday when you receive this news
You’ll say yes to the good drugs.
I thought some more about
“Dream like there’s no tomorrow.” Maybe they just meant "put the EFFORT into manifesting your dreams that you would put into doing something you love knowing you have one last chance to do it."
You’re not dreaming that there’s no tomorrow. You’re dreaming of a thousand tomorrows. With your dreame-ffort meter cranked to 10.
Or...They may have also been telling us to live in the moment today, be present for every moment in this day. Taste every moment. See every one. Smell every one. Hear every one. Like it's the last time. And you will suddenly (for the last and possibly first time) see the beauty in all of it. Even the chaos. Maybe especially the chaos?
Man. Teenagers are woke. I may have to get that grad slogan on a T-shirt after all.
Happy spring, folks! Stay healthy, choose happy, and dream like there's no tomorrow!