While thinking about dreams one day, I felt God remind me of something that happened two years ago, when I was still working in a student care centre.

We’d started a dream wall in the centre and got the children to draw what they wanted to become. As I stood back and watched, I was filled with amazement at the dreams of these little ones, all between 6-8 years old.

Scientists, pastors, soldiers, hairdressers, dentists, doctors, nurses, teachers, artists, pilots, florists … There was even a gardener! There was no limit to their dreams, no what if’s, no inhibitions.

It got me thinking: How long had it been since I allowed myself to dream?

When was the last time I allowed my mind to travel to a place that could never happen in real life because of the pragmatic reasons? The day I realised I was becoming an adult was the day I started watching my favourite childhood movies again and found myself commenting on how unrealistic they were.

In what world will a child at home alone ever lord over his kidnappers the way Kevin McCallister did? Or what are the chances that a father (who’s a clown fish) can swim across the ocean, ride the East Australian Current, and find his son who has been trapped in a tank inside a dentist’s office in Sydney?

What about, more recently, a young girl sailing across the ocean, defeating demons, and restoring the heart of an island with the help of a demigod who strongly resembles The Rock.

How long had it been since I allowed myself to wonder about the possibilities without the boundaries I’ve learnt to live within? No thoughts of “what if I can’t make it?” or “will that pay the bills?” or even “will anyone want to hire me?”

We’ve just been wanting things that are too small, too reasonable, too logical, too … Doable.

When did we stop being children? When did we unwittingly cross the line into adulthood? When did we stop dreaming? Somewhere along the lines, we started sacrificing our imagination for practicality, our hopes for money, and our unique dreams for conformity.

This is a quote I posted long ago: “If our dreams don’t scare us, then perhaps they aren’t big enough.”

Maybe that’s where we lapse: We’ve just been wanting things that are too small, too reasonable, too logical, too … Doable. What are dreams if they are easily attainable along the natural trajectory of life?

C.S. Lewis writes in The Weight of Glory: “It would seem that our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling around with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”

I’ve been working in a virtual reality (VR) escape room for a while now, and I recently met a couple who absolutely blew me away. You see, in a computer-generated world largely populated by able-bodied people and with VR games catered to those who can hear and speak, this couple was deaf and mute.

We explained to them that it would be challenging, as all the instructions are given verbally through the in-game AI (Artificial Intelligence), the virtual monsters are pre-empted based on the direction from which their growls come from, and teammates usually communicate danger or formulate plans by talking. Essentially, the VR experience required them to be able to hear and speak.

But they insisted they would be able to handle it and wanted to give the game a try. They even chose one of the harder games to play, and I was very worried they would not be able to make it very far into the game because of the odds already stacked against them.

They’d clearly followed this sense of adventure out to uncharted territory instead of allowing themselves to be shut in by fear.

But they paid great attention to the entirety of my briefing, forgiving my bad attempt at sign language, which was really just random hand gestures and pointing – supplemented by written instructions. And in game, they were sharp. For what they could not  hear nor say, they made up with sight.

But our equipment only tracks the movement of limbs, not fingers, so they couldn’t even sign to each other. So do you know what they did? They communicated with body language. I was so floored.

These two people exemplified patience, humility, bravery, and the willingness to step out of their comfort zones. More than I’d ever seen in others. And although they didn’t win the game, they got as far as most of our other customers did, accomplishing just as much as those who can speak and hear.

I learnt so much, just serving this couple. They were the embodiment of adventure, and they’d clearly followed this sense of adventure out to uncharted territory instead of allowing themselves to be shut in by fear. Think about it, most people wouldn’t willingly choose to do something they’re not supposed to be able to do.

It made me think about those of us who can hear, but don’t listen. Who can speak, but don’t speak up. And all of us who have the power to dream, but have disabled ourselves by fear.

What excuse do I have now?

Perhaps if we strive to remove the barriers we restrict ourselves to, we would allow our God-given minds to create things far beyond anything this generation has ever imagined. Dreams so big that they excite us and make us burst with vigour, so magnificent that they push us out of our comfort zones, so challenging that they scare us – because we know that we could never accomplish any of this on our own.

Maybe it’s time we let God dream for us, as He always has, and let Him lead us to the good works He has already prepared for us to do. Things we’ve always, in the depths of our hearts, wished we could do. Things we were made to do.

Maybe it’s time to return to childlikeness before the Father, that we may dream with our Maker again.

This was originally posted on Annette’s blog and has been republished with permission.