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Tonight the family watched Thoroughly Modern Millie, performed at Timpview High School, our alma matter. While I didn’t particularly care for the story, whenever I see singing and dancing on stage, I’m taken away by romantic ideals, and I want to put a bowl over my head and charge at a windmill. I felt compelled to ask myself, “How am I doing on my dreams? Do I even dream anymore, or have I sold out to the man?” I won’t answer that, but I will say that, many years ago, I identified that the times when I’m happiest are when I dream the most I don’t mean dwelling on fanciful nothings, I mean treasuring up a glorious future, then seeking after it. The moment I stop dreaming is the moment I die. The fact that I don’t have many big plans for the next few years frightens me. I’ve got to dream more.

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