The Courage to Dream (Begin) Again
Sometimes we must find the courage to turn around, to pick up what we left behind, and pursue that which sets our heart on fire. Because some dreams are meant to live as long as we do.
The Uber driver that picked me up seemed like a very nice man. When he asked me how my day was, his eyes beamed with excitement and the smile across his face was pleasant and re-assuring. I could tell his question was genuine, not mere niceties. I could also tell he was a middle-aged dad with kids probably just slightly older than mine. He carried himself graciously and cut the figure of someone well-practiced in genuinely listening to people and considering the effect his words had on them. He spoke softly and kindly, not as a mentor advising you on some important life issue, but as a childhood friend wondering if your parents might not be a little upset if you stayed out past your playtime.
“Quite busy”, I started, mentally preparing myself for what could end up becoming an entire conversation for the rest of the trip. I usually don’t like chatting much during Uber rides, but this time, I didn’t mind. “Thanks for asking. How was yours?”, I finished.
All good, he assured me. One of those days he had quite a number of rides. He recounted a conversation he had with a couple he drove to the airport, and how they dreamt of moving to Europe to live out their retirement when the time comes. We talked about many things - the weather, Canadian politics, the economy, coffee, football.
“And what do you do?”, he asked very gently. I gave a brief, vague description of my work. After all, I wasn’t going to provide any meaningful detail to a stranger, albeit a nice stranger.
“You know, back in my home country, I wanted to be a doctor”, he said.
“What happened?”, I asked, regretting the question instantly.
Pause. Heavy sigh filled with melancholy. Long pause.
“I don’t know”, he said quietly. “I really don’t know”.
We finished the remainder of the trip in silence.
I’ve thought about that conversation many times. As an immigrant myself, the sentiments he expressed resonated deeply with me. You pack your life in a couple suitcases, move half-way across the world to give your family a better life, your sacrifices momentarily relegated to the deep, dark chambers of your subconscious by the excitement of a new beginning, one full of hope and big dreams.
And then life happens, and you have to get “real”.
There’s a quiet grief that settles in when a dream dies. It doesn’t announce itself with loud sobs or desperate cries for help. It’s subtle, almost polite. It slips into your heart slowly, a dull ache you learn to live with. You push the dream aside, file it under “what could have been,” and tell yourself you’ll be fine without it.
I understand this very well because I too have wanted to be many things that I’m not today - at least not yet. I’ve dreamed about and yearned for possibilities that have not materialized. I’ve abandoned way too many aspirations than I could possibly count. And no, these are not childish fantasies. These are real desires, dreams and ambitions in my adult life that have died quietly and buried unceremoniously, though never truly forgotten.
Deep down, I know dreams never really die. They linger. They sit in the corners of your mind, in the places you don’t dare visit too often, reminding you of what once made your heart race. They whisper to you in the stillness of the night, when the world is quiet and all that’s left is you and your thoughts.
Maybe you too had a dream once. Maybe you let it slip through your fingers, not because you didn’t care enough, but because life got in the way. Maybe it felt too big, too out of reach, or maybe someone told you that you weren’t cut out for it. Maybe life happened and you had to get “real”. So, you let it go. You let it slip away, convincing yourself that you were being practical, that dreams are for other people, not for someone like you.
But deep down, you know that’s not true. Deep down, the part of you that dreamed still exists. It’s just waiting for you to remember. It’s waiting for you to stop running from it, to stop telling yourself that it’s too late.
And I know—it’s terrifying to begin again. It’s terrifying to look at that old dream and wonder if you still have what it takes to make it real. The fear of failure can be so loud, so overwhelming, that it’s easier to just keep moving, to keep pretending that you’re content with where you are.
But let me tell you something that took me far too long to learn: there is no shame in starting over. There is no shame in revisiting a dream that you once thought was lost. There is only courage—courage in acknowledging that just because you’ve travelled far down one path doesn’t mean you can’t choose a new one. Just because you let go once doesn’t mean you can’t reach for it again.
What if you gave yourself permission to try again? What if, instead of focusing on how far you’ve strayed from that dream, you focused on how much closer you are now than you were before? Because the truth is every detour, every heartbreak, every failure has taught you something. You are not the same person who once let go. You are stronger, wiser, more resilient.
You can begin again. You can rebuild from the ashes of what you thought was gone and create something even more beautiful. Dreams evolve, just like we do. What once seemed impossible might now be within your reach, not because the dream changed, but because you have.
And yes, it will be hard. Yes, there will be days when you want to give up, when the weight of trying again feels too heavy to bear. But imagine, just for a moment, what it would feel like to finally hold that dream in your hands. Imagine what it would feel like to know that you didn’t let fear, or time, or circumstance stop you from living the life you always wanted.
There’s a fire inside of you, even if it feels like a faint flicker right now. You can fan that flame, you can reignite the passion you thought had burned out. You owe it to yourself to try. You owe it to the version of you who first dreamed that dream to give it another chance.
I don’t know what your dream is. I don’t know how long you’ve been running from it, how far you’ve wandered from the path that once felt so right. But I do know this: it’s never too late. It’s never too late to turn around, to start over, to rebuild what was once lost.
So, here’s my question to you: What would happen if you stopped running? What would happen if you turned around and faced that dream head-on, with all the strength, wisdom, and experience you now carry with you? What if you gave yourself permission to begin again, to dream again?
Because the only thing standing between you and that dream isn’t time, or failure, or fear—it’s you.
I don’t know if I will ever see that lovely, kind Uber driver again. But if by some kind of miracle I happen upon him, I will without doubt tell him: “You can begin again. You deserve to begin again.”
This is part of a series focused on inspiring us to get back on the path and continue our journey to becoming our best selves. I will forever be grateful to those who were there for me at the lowest point in my life. Yes, even in a state of hopeless despair, we can still rise and flourish. Onward forever!