Is this the start of my Mid-life Crisis?

Where do we go when dreams die?

Whether by time, age, contrary twists and turns of life, by natural causes, casual abandonment, or deliberate disregard in favor of more important or pressing realities.

Whether they quietly drift away into the mist or we crush them with an iron fist in a deliberate action that feels and sounds like a train wreck in our heads.

Is there a dream store where we can go to look at a list?
Replacements for the adventurer? The sailor? The race car driver? And so on…. Or, perhaps, just something "age appropriate" for the aging, the "in crisis," the infirm, the fat, the ugly, the poor, or just all those who have come to realize their lifelong dreams of "things to come" have passed them by and to continue to dream these false illusions of "things never to come" is just wasting whatever boring, mediocre, bland, mundane life we have left.