I'm sick of following my dreams. I'm just going to ask them where

“I’m sick of following my dreams. I’m just going to ask them where they’re goin’, and hook up with them later.” — thus spoke Mitch Hedberg, the comedian-philosopher whose wit shimmered like lightning through the fog of modern absurdity. On the surface, his words make us laugh — a jest about laziness, perhaps, or a mockery of the endless self-help mantras that fill our age. Yet beneath the humor, there lies something deeper — a truth veiled in irony. For even in jest, the soul of wisdom often speaks, and Hedberg’s line reveals a profound reflection on the weariness of pursuit, the nature of desire, and the eternal tension between dreaming and living.

The origin of this quote lies in Hedberg’s unique art — the art of seeing the world askew. He was a master of understatement, transforming the mundane into the mythical through humor that felt effortless yet profound. To say he was “sick of following his dreams” was not only a joke, but a confession. Like many artists, he had chased his ambitions through hardship, rejection, and fatigue. And in that exhaustion, he found humor — the kind of humor that only truth can bear. His words echo the frustration of every soul who has sought greatness and found that the path is long, the dream elusive, and the burden of pursuit heavier than the glory it promises.

To follow your dreams — this is the commandment of our age, shouted from every stage and sermon. Yet Hedberg, with his quiet defiance, turns it on its head. He asks: Must one always chase? Can one not, at times, pause, laugh, and trust that life itself may carry the dream where it must go? In his jest, there is rebellion against the tyranny of constant striving — the endless motion that leaves the soul weary and hollow. He reminds us, in his subtle way, that dreams are not always ahead of us; sometimes they walk beside us, unseen, waiting for us to notice that we are already living what we once desired.

There is a story from ancient Greece of a philosopher named Diogenes, who lived simply in a barrel and scorned the ambitions of men. When Alexander the Great, the conqueror of the world, came to him and asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?” Diogenes replied, “Yes. Step aside. You’re blocking my sunlight.” Like Hedberg, Diogenes mocked the feverish pursuit of success and power, finding joy instead in simplicity and presence. Both men, across centuries, teach the same paradox: that to chase endlessly is often to lose oneself, and that sometimes, wisdom lies not in striving, but in seeing — in realizing that the dream is not always a destination, but a state of being.

To say “I’ll hook up with my dreams later” is to reclaim one’s peace from the madness of ambition. It is the voice of the weary spirit saying: I will rest now. I will laugh. I will live. It is not the surrender of a coward, but the patience of the wise. For even dreams need time to grow, to ripen in silence before they are fulfilled. The farmer does not dig up the seed each day to check its progress; he trusts that it will bloom when the season is right. So too must we learn to trust our journey — to allow life its rhythm, to let dreams unfold in their own mysterious time.

And yet, Hedberg’s humor also holds a mirror to our folly. Too often we mistake talk for action, fantasy for fulfillment. We “follow our dreams” by dreaming alone, by imagining greatness without lifting a hand to create it. In jesting about waiting for his dreams to arrive, Hedberg teases the very human tendency to procrastinate — to delay the hard work of living with the illusion of future achievement. Thus, his joke cuts both ways: it mocks both the blind pursuit of ambition and the lazy escape from effort. Through laughter, he invites us to walk the middle path — to strive, but not be consumed; to dream, but not be deluded.

So, my listener, take from Hedberg’s laughter the wisdom it hides. Dream, yes — but do not let the chase steal your joy. Work for your vision, but also live within the beauty of the present. Let humor heal the wounds of ambition; let patience temper the fire of desire. Ask your dreams where they are going — not to abandon them, but to walk with them in trust, knowing they will meet you when the time is right.

For in the end, Mitch Hedberg reminds us that life itself is the dream — wild, strange, and fleeting. To laugh at its struggles is not to give up, but to rise above. So laugh, and keep your heart light, for wisdom often wears the mask of comedy. And remember this: the dreamer who can smile at his own journey has already found what he was chasing all along.