Dreams and Visions

If someone asked you 'what is your dream, or your vision, for your life?", would you have an answer? I assumed that I did, but if I do, I can't seem to spit it out. A person should have dreams for their life by this point, right? Everyone has dreams for their life, don't they? I feel a bit as though I'm just living from week to week and month to month and deciding from that point what to do in the next point, with the dream of having a dream. I've lived life that way for a long time. How do you define dreams? Should they be huge? Should they be small? Should they be attainable, or should they be something that's always just a *little* out of your reach? My dreams have always been shorter-term kinds of things; broad things that I accomplish, and then wonder why I set them as dreams in the first place?

What about goals? If I answer the question 'What are your goals in life?', the answer would sound something like 'to have goals'. I can't describe it in any kind of a straightforward way, no sensible words come to my lips. It's as though I move through my life toward knowingly and acceptingly being what I actually, inwardly, am. I move, very slowly it seems some days, away from who I'm not, from being who I think or thought that I should be, who others thought I should be. And that in itself, who I actually am, remains a daily discovery as well.
My life is a search for self, a path of becoming. Most days, I wish that I had more tangible, measurable goals, like other people I have met. Come on, I'm rigid: I like having goals, things I can measure, lists I can check off; anyone who really knows me would definitely know that! But, at the same time, I know I could never be satisfied with a life where my goal was to get married, have kids, and retire at 50... to have a good job, buy a nice house, buy a nice car, summer at the cottage, and winter in the desert.... Don't those dreams start to feel empty for their dreamers? In our world today we have these crazy quests that result in a stockpile of material goods, and an empty feeling where accomplishment might otherwise roost. I remember having those dreams, thinking that if I could just get the "picture perfect" life, I wouldn't have this feeling inside that something is wrong, that something is missing... thing is, I don't think those tangible goals in life will ever help me fill that space.
My little brother is 26. He's married, has 3 beautiful kids and a beautiful, loving wife; he has a house, a car and a good job. He renovates, enjoys the outdoors, helps and visits with our parents, and likes having a cold beer at the end of his day. And he is happy. He is satisfied with his life. "What more would I want, Shauna?" My parents did things pretty similarly... They had the house up in Ft Mac, the 2 cars (trucks), the 2 kids; they had the summer house at the beach, and the lake lot for camping. They work, and work, and work; they garden, they have family dinners, they watch TV, they enjoy the outdoors, they are comfortable. And they are happy. My mom says that she is happy, as long as her kids are happy. My dad, he doesn't really say anything. When they die, will they feel like their lives were fulfilling? Will they feel like they did what they wanted to do in life, like they became who they were meant to become, that they lived up to the potential of who they could have been?
My goal of becoming, evolving, discovering how to be who I am leaves me with the feeling that I am pursuing a strange end, a self-reflective end which defies itself and is never-ending. My truest self is the one who is in search of herself. How can I ever truly be myself, when the very act of reaching to find myself puts it out of reach? My life needs to have meaning. How do I become the person I was meant to be? My heart's desire is to be a genuine person; to communicate authentically, with an open heart. My life is a search for meaning and integrity, for self-actualization, for becoming who I am, and who I was truly meant to be. The discovery of that piece alone is a daily pursuit... but is it a goal? Is it a dream?
Everyone in life wears masks. I consciously wear the masks of wife, friend, co-worker, foreigner, student, teacher, woman and daughter. Every mask gives me a different energy, a different point of perspective from which to engage with the world. Even alone, I wear my mask of self, being who I think I am, or who I think I should be in that moment. In no moment am I truly unmasked. I can be charming, engaging and charismatic. I can be calm, quiet and introspective. I can be silly, fun and adventurous. I can be serious, directed and disciplined. I can be sexy, alluring and seductive. I can be kind, gentle and friendly. I can be curious, analytical and filled with wonder. I can be sure, composed and confident. I can be loving, honest and supportive. I can be genuine, real and open. I am all these things, these things are all parts of me, yet I am none of them. I can be jealous, petty and whiny. I can be angry, mournful and morose. I can be insecure, uncertain and afraid. I can be fake, dishonest and insincere. I can be closed-minded, rejecting and cold. I can be mean, selfish and harsh. And again, I am all these things, these things are all parts of me, yet I am none of them.

My intention in life is to become on the outside, in every breath and every step, who I am deep within on the inside. I have talked about this before with the people I love. I feel as though I go through my life split: I am both actor and audience. I am always on stage, at the same time watching myself be on stage. It's ironic really. I know a deep desire for unity within, but still I live every day split, standing to one side, watching myself be myself, captive to my own ideas of myself. In everything I do, everything, it as though I am watching from the sideline at the same time that I am interacting with the world. For as long as I can remember in life, I have been constantly consciously observing and evaluating myself, as though I am of two distinct energies. I cannot remember one time in my life where I was fully *inside* myself, where 100% of my energy was devoted to being in that moment. Why is that? Even now as I sit here and type, I review and edit from the perspective outside of myself, that sits and watches what I write and what I do in each second.
Goals... aspirations... desires... ambitions... dreams... visions... for the future, for life, for myself... I still can't define what mine are...