Let’s Go Play

You ever had one of those dreams that felt so real, you woke up confused?

Not the ones where you’re flying, being chased, or somehow married to your boss while riding a unicycle through your old high school.

No, I mean the kind that punches you gently in the chest.

The kind where you saw you—but the version of you that still smiled without hesitation.

The one who hadn’t been crushed by calendar invites, ghosted by life, or measured their worth by productivity yet.

Yeah. I had one of those.

I was a kid in the dream.

Probably nine or ten.

Shoelaces untied, hair a mess, clutching a grape juice box like it was a first-place trophy.

Barefoot. Grass-stained. Laughing.

Running in no particular direction, with the kind of energy that didn’t need a purpose.

Popsicle smeared across my face. Eyes bright. Heart light.

That kind of joy that doesn’t ask for permission.

And standing off to the side?

Me. Now-me.

Phone in one hand, stress in the other.

Wearing the hoodie that’s seen more breakdowns than laundry cycles.

Trying to keep it all together like it’s a full-time job—because it is.

Dream-kid-me waved like a maniac and yelled, “Come on! Let’s go play!”

And I said back—

“I can’t. I’ve got too much going on.”

In a dream.

Even in my subconscious, I turned down joy because I was too “busy.”

I woke up with that familiar weight in my chest.

The one that usually shows up at 3AM, right between “What am I doing with my life?” and “Did I respond to that email?”

But this time, it came wrapped in nostalgia.

That ache you get when you remember someone you forgot you used to be.

Because that kid?

He had no idea what burnout was.

Didn’t know what a résumé gap meant or what it felt like to question your value in a world obsessed with titles.

He wasn’t worried about timelines or metrics.

He just wanted to find a cool stick and make up a game with it.

And I miss him.

I miss her.

The versions of us who believed we could be anything.

Whose biggest loss was a favorite toy or a dropped ice cream cone.

Who didn’t carry shame for being silly or loud or full of wonder.

They weren’t perfect.

They once ate glue or believed glitter was a food group.

But they were free.

And somewhere between deadlines and adult disappointments, we stopped listening to them.

But here’s the thing: they never left.

They’re still in there.

Beneath the polite smiles.

Under the coping mechanisms.

Inside the laughter that slips out when something is just dumb enough to be funny.

They’re the reason we still dance when no one’s watching.

The reason cereal for dinner sometimes tastes like victory.

The reason we still hope—quietly, stubbornly—that joy might be waiting just around the corner.

So if you’ve had one of those dreams—

Or even just a flash of memory that made you pause—

Don’t brush it off.

That barefoot, sticky-fingered, wildly optimistic dreamer inside of you?

They’re not gone.

They’re just waiting for you to say, “Okay. Let’s play.”

So maybe today, give them a moment.

Close the laptop early.

Laugh at something dumb.

Wear the ridiculous shirt.

Text someone just to say you love them.

Give yourself permission to feel good without earning it.

Because the younger you wasn’t wrong for being happy for no reason.

And the current you isn’t wrong for missing that feeling.

Let them out.

Let them breathe.

Let them remind you that life isn’t just about surviving.

Sometimes, it’s about barefoot joy.

Even if it’s just in your mind.

Even if it’s just for a little while.

Even if the adult in you forgot how.

You didn’t lose that part of you.

You just stopped visiting.

It’s time to go back.