Welcome to my personal space, where I write through change, learning, and healing in real time. Written by a 45-year-old mother of three, learning AI, online systems, and how to stay sane and healthy, one honest step at a time.
Elle Suhardi
December 22, 2025
I used to think dreaming was something you outgrew when life got “real.”
When you hit your 40s.
When you’re raising children in different stages of life.
When you’re quietly trying to rebuild confidence, income, and stability all at once.
But I’ve come to understand something very different:
Dreaming as emotional survival is necessary.
Not childish.
Not unrealistic.
Not irresponsible.
Necessary.
Dreaming as emotional survival is what keeps me moving on days when results are slow, when money feels uncertain, when all I have is faith and very small steps. It helps me believe that my life and my story are not finished yet especially in the in-between.
For me, dreaming keeps me sane.
It feels like a mental reset and maybe even a form of healing especially during hard seasons like the past few months. Not hard in a dramatic way, but in the quiet, heavy way that seeps into your thoughts when you’re trying to hold everything together.
When finances are tight.
When plans feel delayed.
When progress doesn’t look the way you hoped it would.
Dreaming as emotional survival is how I breathe through that.
When I talk about dreaming, I don’t mean letting my mind drift aimlessly.
Although even that has value.
Sometimes imagining a beach, a quiet place, or a peaceful morning softens the edges of the day. Those moments aren’t useless at all.
But the kind of dreaming that keeps me steady is more intentional.
It’s choosing something specific to hold onto.
Something steady.
Something hopeful.
Something to look forward to.
This is where dreaming as emotional survival becomes grounding rather than avoidant.
For me, that place is Disney World in Orlando.
Not casually, but intentionally.
I let myself remember the sights. Walking down Main Street. The music. The atmosphere.
Sometimes I imagine the details: where we might eat, which rides we’d do first, how the day might unfold.
It’s not about pretending I can book the trip right now.
It’s not about denial.
It’s about allowing my mind to rest somewhere safe and that is exactly what dreaming as emotional survival does for me.
As I’ve written this, I’ve found myself asking: Why Disney?
And I think I know.
Disney World holds some of my happiest memories..
I went there multiple times as a child with my family, and those trips are tied to feelings of safety, laughter, excitement, and togetherness, a time when life felt lighter and I was simply allowed to be happy.
Later, I went there with my own little family with my husband and children creating a new layer of memories. Those moments felt grounded, present, and full in a way that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it.
And Disney World was also the last place I travelled to with my late brother.
Because of that, it holds some of my most precious memories of him, moments frozen in time, wrapped in love, laughter, and togetherness.
So when Disney shows up in my dreams, it’s not really about a theme park.
It’s about joy.
Family.
Memory.
And hope.
Dreaming about going back and creating new Disney memories with my husband and children feels like a quiet prayer, a belief that happiness can be revisited, and also renewed.
Dreaming helps me feel that everything can be okay again.
It gives me light when things feel heavy.
It reminds me that this season is not permanent.
That my life is bigger than my current circumstances.
And sometimes, dreaming as emotional survival is the only thing keeping the light on.
I don’t dream because everything is okay.
I dream because things are not okay and I still need to function.
Dreaming as emotional survival helps regulate my emotions when reality feels overwhelming. It keeps me from sinking into hopelessness. It gives my nervous system a break from constant problem-solving.
It’s not denial.
It’s preservation.
There was a time I felt guilty for dreaming.
Like it was irresponsible.
Like I should only focus on what was practical and urgent.
But I’ve learned that when you stop dreaming entirely, something inside you slowly shuts down.
Quietly.
Gently.
Without pressure to make anything happen immediately.
Just enough to keep my heart open and that, too, is dreaming as emotional survival.
We don’t dream because life is easy.
We dream because life is hard.
Dreaming gives us:
direction
courage
comfort
clarity
hope
And hope is necessary.
Right now, dreaming especially Disney dreaming, is how I survive the in-between. It keeps the light on while I rebuild, learn, and keep going.
Even if it’s just a holiday in my mind for now, that is enough.
A. Dreaming as emotional survival provides emotional relief, hope, and direction when results are slow or circumstances feel heavy. It helps regulate emotions and sustain resilience.
A. No. Dreaming can be a healthy coping mechanism. It allows the mind to rest somewhere safe while remaining grounded in the present.
A. Happy places are often tied to safety, love, or meaningful memories. Revisiting them can bring comfort, healing, and hope during times of rebuilding.
A. Not at all. Dreaming as emotional survival is a form of emotional resilience, especially during life transitions, grief, or seasons of uncertainty.
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