by Kay Hafner

If I owned an ancient Ming vase, an original Hummel or even a first edition Superman comic book, I sure wouldn�t keep them on my coffee table. If I had anything that valuable I�d keep it under lock and key, high up and out of reach. Out of harm and away from potential danger.

Investment value aside, what�s the sense in owning something that you can�t use, won�t touch and don�t feel safe in sharing?

Our dreams are worth far more than any material possessions. Dreams, whether of the cherished childhood variety or of more recent vintage, are unique, each one a rare collectible. The more treasured the dream, the tighter we hold on to it, and the more private it becomes.

To share a dream is to risk its destruction. We protect and guard our dreams because we rely on them to get us through the hard times. When life gets ugly, dreams provide a reassuring touch of beauty and promise in the world.

An insatiable book lover yearns to own a bookstore but is trapped in an unimaginative, 9-to-5 desk job. Her sister with a passion for horses hates being stuck inside all the time and dreams of running a stable. Their very funny brother wishes he was telling jokes and soaking in the limelight instead of selling cars and cleaning off the headlights.

"Someday, maybe when I win the lottery, I�m gonna have a bookstore," says the book lover with a sigh. Small bookstores rarely survive, but in the dream world, she�s got money to burn. Besides, with guts and determination, anything is possible.

Back under the light of day, and in light of her actual savings account and lack of business experience, and it�s a whole other story. Pop. The daydream bubble has burst and she�s at her desk at on Monday morning. The dream will wait for another day.

When we�re young, we�re often told we can do anything we set our minds to. If we work hard and persevere past the disappointments and setbacks, we�ll eventually reach our goal. I�m a pretty optimistic person and even I think this concept is a bit simplistic. Not everyone who wants to can own a bookstore or stable or be discovered at The Improv. That doesn�t mean they shouldn�t try.

Sometimes success is a matter of trading grand dreams and complicated schemes for something more within our grasp, at least at first. If you can�t headline in Vegas with Seinfeld, at least spend some time at the local open mike night. If you can�t own a stable, find a way to own one horse, or to ride someone else�s once a month. If you can�t own a bookstore, work in one or volunteer at the library. Who knows what will happen when you take just one step in the right direction.

Go to that storage room in your heart and pull out one of your dreams. Dust it off. Look closely. Maybe that genuine Hummel is valuable, but it�s not really your style. Wouldn�t you rather have something that would look nice, and be at home on your coffee table? Bring the dream into the light of day, examine it from all sides. Is this something that could use around the house, instead of keeping it a snapshot in your mind?

The worst thing you can do to your dreams is to leave them locked away so tight and secure that you forget you they exist. Out of sight, out of mind, out of luck. Maybe there�s a big lock on the door. You�ve forgotten the combination or misplaced the key. That�s the fear of failure telling you that the dream is too fragile to even be taken out of its protective storage. It warns you that the dream will disintegrate in the heat of the sun, like a rare medieval manuscript.

I say, if a dream is that fragile and old, it�s probably time to add something new and fresh to the collection.