Dreaming, Redreaming, and the Beauty of Plan B - By Laurie Faria Stolarz

The topic for this month is dreams and backup plans. We often talk about dreams as if they’re fixed points on a map—places we must arrive at in order to feel fulfilled. But the more experience I have, the more I’ve come to believe that dreams ebb and flow with us. They shift, they stretch, they surprise us. And sometimes, what we think is a “Plan B” turns out to be just another step toward understanding who we really are.

Growing up, I wanted to be a writer. At least, that’s the dream I would have told you. But the truth is, I already was one—long before I understood what the word meant. I wrote scripts for my dolls. I built worlds and characters before I could even properly form letters on a page. Writing wasn’t just something I dreamed of doing; it was something I was doing instinctively, almost as naturally as breathing.

But when it came time for college, and reality—or what I thought reality should be—stepped in. I didn’t believe writing could ever become a “real job,” not for someone like me. I watched my mom working sixty+ hours a week and still struggling to pay bills. Meanwhile my brothers and I were working full-time as well, saving for college. The idea of becoming a writer? It just wasn't in the cards for me. So I chose what felt safe. I majored in business, following in the footsteps of my older brothers. That was my Plan B: something I perceived as practical, stable, sensible. Even then, though, I never truly used that plan, not in the way it was intended. Instead, business school became a reminder of the dream I’d set aside. It didn’t replace writing—it made me long for it more fiercely. If anything, Plan B pushed me toward Plan A with even greater determination.

Eventually, I achieved what my younger self had hoped for: I became a published author. A dream checked off. But I had other dreams too, mostly tied to traveling—living in France, backpacking through Europe, meeting people, expanding the edges of my imagination. I’ve been lucky enough to pursue those, and along the way, I discovered new dreams I never saw coming. Who could have predicted that I’d love teaching so much? That guiding others, watching them light up with their own ideas and passions, would bring me such joy? Or that listening to others’ dreams and stories would become something that both inspired and fueled me?

All of this is why I believe it’s important to stay open—open to dreaming, to pivoting, and to deeply reflecting on ourselves as we evolve. Plan B isn’t always a detour—it can be a mirror, reflecting back what we value most. And sometimes the dreams we never planned—the quiet, unexpected ones—are the ones that end up shaping us in really meaningful ways.

I don't believe we outgrow dreams, but I do believe we outgrow versions of ourselves. I also think that sometimes the most interesting dreams are the ones we don’t see coming.