I've come to realize - it took a long while - that dreams are life preservers. They're the lowest rung of a ladder that you can just reach to climb out of wherever you're at.

You want to sing - but singing in the choir or with a bunch of friends doesn't compare with Justin or Lady or Celine. It has to be higher, so we keep pushing and clawing and struggling to replicate what someone else has done.

When you consider the pain and angst and frustration that accompanies such an effort - does the comfort and satisfaction of a "dream" come to mind? The word and the actions required to achieve it don't seem to mesh.

I think we're confused about what we're striving for. There's a disconnect. The "dream" is really someone else's. Lady Gaga's story of redemption not our own.

Good article.