Shelley Burne-Field (Photo supplied)

Not sure if you have a big dream for your life? That’s okay, writes children’s author Shelley Burne-Field.

Do we all agree that dreams are important? I hope so. Some people can visualise a life goal or big dream — and then go for it. There are those who apparently know what they want to do with their lives at two years old. Auē!

Stories of dreams fulfilled, which often show up on Instagram or Facebook, inspire me to look into my soul and ask: So how about you, Shelley Burne-Field? Are you loving life and living your dream?

Actually, the answer is yes. But not for the reasons you may think.

I’ve written stories from a young age and always wanted to write a book. But did I identify that as a “dream” when I was a kid? Not really. I’ve never had just one big dream.

Instead, I believe dreams are with me on the daily, and they change over time. In trying to discover the “big one”, I’ve found it’s just as important to recognise the small things that you love every day. Otherwise, you may just miss the whole thing.

Some people call this being grateful. It’s when we hold on to the tiny things that bring the aroha, joy, love, peace and happiness deep down in our hearts and wairua. I also see it as being kind to yourself.

Need an example?

How about the loving messages you send your mates? The time you helped your friend in class? That walk on the beach or down the street on a sunny day? Being awarded a star sticker from your teacher? The “good job” comment from your coach? That big hug from someone who loves you? What about those delish crunchy noodles that hit the spot? That creamy coffee? That fun game of hide and seek with every kid on your street? A goobery game of fetch with the dog? Cuddling with the kitten? That first Fortnite win? Quality time with whānau? Building a mega Minecraft mansion? The best game you made up out of your imagination and played all by yourself at lunchtime? Making your Nan laugh so hard in the marae kitchen that she pees her pants? The waiata you made up and sang with your cousin? That funny comic you drew on the footpath with chalk? Quiet time on the bean bags? (Bliss.)

I suspect there are many people who’ve never known what their dream is, and I want to say that it’s okay. Your dreams are with you. Maybe you’re already living your dream.

In my new children’s novel, Kimi the Kekeno’s Big Adventure, Kimi is a New Zealand fur seal — a kekeno — who has no idea what his dream should be. When his māmā is injured by a shark, Kimi looks after her and misses the migration with the other young pups. Later, he must race up the East Coast with some mates to the Stone Circle to get his moon blessings and finally discover his special dream.

Kimi felt his back flippers crunch up, slowly squeezing and freezing. He didn’t have a dream! He closed his eyes.

“What’s wrong, little Kimi?” asked Hina with a soft voice that warmed Kimi’s heart, but his nose remained cold and he felt ashamed.

“I have no dream, Hina,” wept Kimi. “I’ve never had one.”

Spoiler alert: Kimi does just fine and has an almighty adventure on the way up the east coast of Te Ika ā Māui. But just like the pressure on Kimi, our little kekeno hero, there seems to be a heap of pressure on young people everywhere to “have a dream.”

But what does that mean?

Are parents, teachers, influencers and the world referring to a dream job? Or a dream house? Or is it a dream life, a dream romantic partner, a dream car? Or a dream family?

And what happens when “dreams” and “goals” get mixed in with ridiculous expectations that nobody could ever meet, especially the sort framed by social media? Don’t we all groan when we see a perfect pic on Instagram or Facebook?

Trying to figure out our dreams can quickly turn into drinking a kind of gross mocktail of self-hate and inadequacy. The pressure of not having a “dream” can make us feel frozen.

Let’s start with the question of a dream job.

When I was asked as a teenager what I wanted to do for a career, I had no idea. My mother was a housewife who worked as a cleaner and shop assistant. My father worked at the telephone exchange and later at the Post Office. We lived in a little rural town. Pulling tits at the dairy farm and picking asparagus were next on the available jobs list.

For a few years, I worked in and around my rohe. I delivered newspapers on my bike, picked boysenberries and pumpkins, polished counters and floors, and cleaned toilets with my mother. I milked cows for a while and loved washing down the milking platform. Using a high-pressure hose to sluice away cow shit was my first taste of a truly meditative practice.

This mahi earned  me enough pocket money to buy my own shoes, plenty of junk food, and save up for Christmas presents.

What did I really know about the world of work and dreams or what life was all about? I only knew about the now.

Young people indeed have the superpower of being able to inhabit the present. The now is what we have today, not tomorrow, not yesterday. And rangatahi have more of a handle on it than us oldies.

It’s our rangatahi’s job to live and thrive and create and have fun, and to care and fight and love. It’s our job to nurture them and help them to figure it out, but not put pressure on their “figuring.” If they have a dream, great. If they can’t quite see it yet — great.

At high school, when an adult asked me: “What do you want to do with your life?” or “What’s your dream?”, I would murmur: “Umm . . . ahh.”

The adults got very insistent. Then bingo, hallelujah, one career counsellor told me I’d make a good teacher, and that was it.

Umm and ahh turned into: “Yes, I’m going to be a teacher.” “Yes, I am looking at teaching degrees, Miss.” “Yes, I would like to teach, Sir.” “Yes, I think it would be a great profession, Principal B.” “Yes, I’m sure it’s my dream job.”

What they didn’t bother to find out was that I was interested in too many things at the time to nail down just one path. Archaeology. Aliens. Reading the Bible and Mills & Boons books. Writing stories. Singing. Acting. Movies. Listening to whale song. Eeling. Realising I was brown. Playing netball. Making things. Drawing. Sewing.

I was also busy staying away from bullies, growing boobs, liking a boy, getting earache, watching The Young and the Restless and Days of our Lives, eating junk food, having periods, and walking the dog.

Once I got the “I will be a teacher” answer spot on, parents and teachers and career counsellors and other adults made the right noises and kept off my case. But even though I loved Bono and U2, I still hadn’t found what I was looking for. To be honest, I didn’t really care. I was trying to just live.

I didn’t become a teacher. I didn’t know then what my dream job could be. But you’ll be pleased to know that I’m doing it now. Writing books is my for-now dream job. Not being a teacher. One day, who knows? I may become a teacher and it may be the dream I always wanted. We’ll see.

It’s taken me a while to figure out that “dreams” are vital. Essential. Cool. But they are definitely not something that’s separate from ourselves.

They don’t have to be written down with a timeframe, or drawn on a vision board. You can leave them to reveal themselves.

Perhaps that’s what Kimi the kekeno is learning to do on his big adventure. Trust and truly listen to his heart. His dream will surely reveal itself.

I’m not saying it’s easy. We start our big life adventure with very little knowledge of a world that can be very scary, and also extremely awesome.

So it’s good to ask yourself what might happen if you love who you are right now. What if you let your dreams come to the surface by loving the parts of your life that feel good now?

Kimi the Kekeno’s Big Adventure really is a story about the now. Āe, it’s about friendship and confidence and fun, but it’s also about loving ourselves as we are and living our best life every day — big dream or no big dream.

Shelley Burne-Field (Sāmoa, Ngāti Mutunga, Ngāti Rārua, Pākehā) writes fiction, creative non-fiction and poetry. She comes from Te Matau-a-Māui / Hawke’s Bay and is a graduate of the University of Auckland’s Master of Creative Writing, and the mentoring programme Te Papa Tupu.

E-Tangata, 2025