"Dreams are for fun."

I overhear this as I walk past the primary school playground. A little-girl voice. I take a quick peek into their fantasy world; beneath a large hibiscus bush sit four first graders, so defined by their bright orange badges. A new idea from a new headmistress. New possibilities crowding out old traditions.

Beneath the hibiscus bush, chewing sensibly on Vegemite and cheese sandwiches, they discuss without political or religious bias, free to voice opinions without the repressive adult authority represented by the bright orange badges. Two badges lie in lunch boxes, a third is on the ground. Only one remaines pinned to the shirt of a tyrant-conscious freckled first grader.

   "No they're not! Dreams are for learning from. My dad says so." declares a Vegemite muncher indignantly.

   "Dreams are when the bad man comes in the dark." mutters the badge wearer.

   "You're a sissy, Brett!" taunts the first speaker. First grader, first speaker; leader.

   "Dreams are like what we play." The freckles twitch in anticipation of further rebuke.

   "Yeah, that's right!" enthuses a cheese muncher, crusts left in equal contempt to the lunchboxed badge.

   "Let's play, then. I'm the queen, and you're the bad man what locked me up, and you're the princess, and you..." ...and I can walk away, away to responsibilities, while you play, children, acting out dreams where you say who wears the tags, you say who's who.

Children dream, adults dream. The distinction lies in ignorance of reality. Children dream to be older, old enough to stay up late, old enough to choose their clothes, old enough to escape the parental voice of authority. Adults dream of freedom from responsibility, freedom from obligations, freedom from adulthood.

Old isn't happy. Old still yearns to be young again, where the now nostalgic is commonplace, where all the hard the decisions are made by someone else, where a budget of forty cents is your only budget, and yours to spend on you alone.

Old isn't happy. Old still yearns to be older, to be well past the miseries and indecisions of working life, of financing a marriage and raising children. Old enough to look back on the accomplishments and forgive the failures; old enough to chuckle at youth's foolish moments; old enough to say 'my poor mother, my poor father - how did they ever put up with me?'; old enough to know that life has been good; old enough to remember that once you were seven and would give anything to be thirty (remember?).

So dream away, old man, old fool. Were you ever young? Can you really remember? Really?

And dream away, dear child, dear fool. Every day lasts a hundred years. You have your whole life ahead of you. You'll never grow old.

Dream, all, dream. Children, the creators of dreams, but children grow up. And the big people, they still dream. Yes, they do.

So dream on, all, dream on, for dreams are the stuff as life is made on.