When you can dream!

I am, and have always been, a curious person. I interrogate everything. My imagination is restless and fertile; it refuses to sit quietly with the obvious. Even the smallest things take on new meanings in my mind. A cockroach, for instance, pestilent as it is, wears one of the most unlikely colours in nature. Its brown is not dull; when it is still, it glistens. It carries a strange sheen, a quiet, stubborn elegance. These days, Nigerian celebratory fashion has found a name for a similar shade in Asoebi fabrics, cockroach brown. It makes me smile. Even in what we find repulsive, there is colour, texture, and story. The dreamer’s mind does this: it reimagines the ordinary.

I am a dreamer. I imagine large things. I see possibilities where others see inconvenience. I hold images of futures that do not yet exist and try to sketch them into being. I am also, strangely, gifted in project management without ever having been formally schooled in it, especially when the projects are creative. At the moment, I am writing two books simultaneously while pursuing a higher degree. My life feels like a series of overlapping timelines, each with its own demands. I break them into tranches, juggle priorities, and learn, sometimes the hard way, that ambition without structure can collapse under its own weight.

Like many dreamers, I have a tendency to overload my own dream machine. Too many ideas. Too many possibilities. Too many futures competing for attention. When you are younger, this feels exhilarating. As you grow older, you begin to understand the discipline of pacing. You learn to ask harder questions: Which of these dreams is doable now? Which one lacks the environment it needs to thrive? Which one is better postponed to next year? Dreaming is not the problem. The problem is trying to prosecute every dream at once, and in doing so, completing none.

In 2026, if you are a dreamer like me, you must work even harder to ensure that your plans are workable. Dreams need scaffolding. They require time, money, allies, patience, and stamina. I was seven years old when I first wanted a bookshop. The idea stayed with me quietly for decades. At fifty-six, I finally owned one. At fifteen, I wrote a book that was, frankly, not very good. But I kept writing. I kept returning to the craft. In 2007, I published my first proper book. The dream did not die; it matured.

Never give up on your dream. See it. Believe it. Return to it when life distracts you. Protect it. Do not befriend, let alone partner with, people who take pleasure in shrinking your imagination. There are those who mock dreams as impractical, as childish, as indulgent. But history is built by people who refused to be practical too early.

What are you working on? A degree? A business? A creative project you keep postponing? Tell yourself it is possible. Then gather the things that make it possible: skills, resources, mentors, and time. Think about it often. Save towards it. Speak about it with people who believe in you and will challenge you to do the work, not just applaud the idea.

I dream in black and white sometimes. But mostly, I dream in technicolour. I dream in large, vivid frames, as though my future were a film I am slowly directing. This year, bring your forgotten dream back to the table, the one you folded into your pocket because life felt too heavy. Trust me: it is still possible. Lay it out. Look at it again. Dream in bold colours. Dream deliberately. Then take the smallest, most practical step towards making it real.