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Read the Stories and Lyrics Behind Each of My Songs
dreams
LYRICS BY JUSTINE THOMAS
Waking up with those misty eyes
I wanna know I’ll be alright
When the clouds part in the sky
I see a million dreams fly by
Oh I’m just going through
All the days commotions
I love what I have but I still dream
About how I
[Chorus]
Wanna drive across country with my family
And sing on stage like in my fantasy
And dance with my husband after midnight
Not ready for bed, I’m only thirty-five
I still got dreams
I still got dreams
I still got dreams
If everything was meant to be incredibly easy
there wouldn’t be reverie
When the stars shine in the night
There’s a magical world in sight
And I’m just laying down
Tossing and I’m turning
My fears are awake
I just want to
sleep
Dream how I
[Chorus]
But sacrifices are made
Bills need to be paid
And dreams are a fantasy
I live in reality
Life can be a bitch
The hits just keep on coming
I can’t stop to flinch
The bliss is worth the running
Cause that’s my air
That’s my air
I won’t compromise it
Time I emphasize it
Churn that fantasy into reality
There are days when I’m feeling lost
And think about what I’ve found
When the rain falls from the sky
Drops catch on my tongue like dreams of mine
I’m gonna travel the world with my family
And watch my kids do amazing things
Maybe I’ll even sing on stage someday
Or record my songs for my grandkids to play
I still got dreams
I still got dreams
I still got dreams
about the song
I still remember the day I sat down on the carpet in our upstairs office to write this song. It was a misty, overcast morning in Newbury Park. In the months leading up to this day, we had shut the doors to our restaurant because of the Woolsey Fire and I had suffered a miscarriage. I felt hopeless and like our dreams were completely shattered. I thought I was sitting down to write a song about how painful it all felt. Yet what began as a song about pain and giving up turned into a song about hope and believing that our dreams were still possible…
When I was 23, my husband and I opened a fine dining restaurant in the Los Angeles area, Westlake Village. He had been a chef for years and after working for numerous emotionally abusive bosses, we were both eager to be in a position where we could be our own boss. Of course, with zero experience running a business, we found ourselves jumping into the deep end, completely clueless. Our restaurant, Aroha, became a beloved staple in the community, even winning local awards. Unfortunately, we under charged significantly and didn’t foresee the many other expenses it took to run a restaurant.
One late night over four years in, I woke up with a panic attack, knowing something was very wrong. My husband turned to me and told me that we needed to empty our entire life savings, including the inheritance money my grandpa and his mom had each left us, to pay our employees and keep the doors opened. I had always envisioned using a little of the money from my grandpa to follow my dream of recording my music, but in that moment, I abandoned that hope. I looked into my husband’s eyes as he felt his own dreams crashing down around him and I didn’t want to be the one to tell him his dream was over. So through tears, I agreed.
Shortly after, the Woolsey Fire hit. From both directions, it surrounded the restaurant for weeks, forcing us to close, while everything became covered in ash. By the time the fire was out, we had no ability to reopen. We were in incredible debt as we said goodbye to my husband’s dream and a business we had put everything we had into it: not just our finances but our minds, bodies, and souls.
Just a matter of weeks later, I suffered a miscarriage. The feelings of these two events became so excruciatingly entangled as I wondered if all of the stress had caused it. For the months (honestly years) that followed, I’d toss and turn, blaming myself for everything we lost. Our dreams, our money, our child — our confidence and hope.
The ironic thing is, I sat down to write a song about my dreams all disappearing. Yet, writing this song is the moment they all reawakened for me. The optimistic side of me I had lost suddenly returned and I realized as I sang my words that I couldn’t give up. My dreams were still out there – they might end up looking a little different but I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, say goodbye to them.
Over time, we rebuilt ourselves from nothing, paying off credit card debts for both the restaurant and our personal expenses, and we had our beautiful rainbow baby the following year. Just as I began to think about recording my songs finally, we made the decision to move to New Zealand and my musical dreams once again faded into the background.
Back and forth, I would pull out my guitar and sing this song. I would get to the final verse and cry. As much as I had tried to deny it all, the trauma of those previous years was still very much alive in me – I just was masking it differently.
Ever since we got to a more financially secure place, I constantly pushed off the idea of using any of our savings to record my songs. It felt selfish to pursue something away from my family. After all, I had my beautiful children – my rainbow baby – and I thought admitting I still wanted something else in life would mean I somehow loved them less.
One morning, it finally occurred to me that I was punishing myself for the stress I had felt during the restaurant and my miscarriage. I pulled out my phone and started researching recording studios in New Zealand. In less than an hour, I found one I absolutely loved.
Before heading into the studio, I made some alterations to the song, such as the “Not ready for bed, I’m only thirty-five” line, as I clearly didn’t begin writing this when I was thirty-five (I’m actually not even 35 at the time of recording this…apparently I’m absolutely comfortable with aging myself by a few months!). The original line was “Live my life like it’s the last time”. Looking at it though, I didn’t like the connotations anymore. While I agree with the concept of make the most out of life, I didn’t like the negativity of you never know when it will all be over. This song was about regaining hope, after all.
As I reworked the chorus, I thought about how as a parent, you no longer get the opportunity to stay up late. By 8:30, you’re crashing on the couch with your spouse, watching TV, just counting down until a “reasonable time” to go to bed so you don’t feel like you’re 80. That’s when it struck me: how easy it is to let our exhaustion and our daily routines take the wheel. As adults, it’s so easy to put our dreams to bed.
As I sang through the song again, I got to the final line I had originally written.
“Maybe I’ll even sing on stage someday
or record my songs for my grandkids to play”
And I cried. This time, not because I felt these dreams were still far off, but because I was finally making them happen.
All of this time, I had been worried about my dreams overshadowing my life. But as it turns out, it’s showcasing it. I’m singing songs about everything we’ve been through, about my beautiful children, my husband… everything. My daughter is asking me to sing the songs to her every night at bedtime and my son has told me multiple times how proud he is of me.
I don’t know if my dream will ever take me anywhere — if people will ever discover my songs, be singing and dancing to them, or blasting them in the car like I also dream of. My music may never make back the savings I’m spending on it. But it’s not about that. It’s about finally letting go of the guilt and pain I was carrying for years and realizing I deserve happiness and hope too. It’s about doing what I love and following a lifelong dream I’ve always had – and it’s about showing my kids that our dreams are never out of reach, no matter how far away they may seem sometimes.
