"Ich habe einen Traum" is a regular feature of the German magazine/newspaper Zeit. In it, various celebrities write about their dreams. Heidi Klum wrote a piece for the column last November. Click the link below to read it.
http://www.zeit.de/2004/49/Traum_2fKlum_49
Of course, you probably don't speak German. If that's the case, you can read my translation:
I Have a Dream by Heidi Klum
When people ask me whether my dreams came true, I remember myself when I was a young girl, my fantasy was to weave together garments and hope someone would notice that I did not only sew, I created things. Sequins in different colors, sparkling jewels and straight and slanted cuts from my designs always supposed to be something made especially to show others that sewing can be an art. Dreams are something artistic, ethereal, as light as chiffon, and they have the ability to flutter like silk scarves in the wind.
I go through my life with my head held high, around which - to others it is invisible - I wrap the cloth from this light dream material, that, when it touches me, it cools my hot head. Just like silk, it cools when you are warm and warms when you are cool. As a seamstress, I wanted respect from the outside. I wove dream molecules into every seam, from which I hoped it would lift me to the Mount Olympus where the celebrated designers lived.
But reality is something else. I live as if I were in a golden egg, hatching out whenever a deadline says to me, "Heidi, this is necessary and in your best interest to do it." Unfortunately, they are daily deadlines - sometimes a whole bunch of them - that, when I finish them, they no longer smell, they really stink.
The world knows my face. People are right in assuming I make a lot of money. The press has it right when they write that I am blessed with a husband, proud of my daughter and have a close relationship with my parents. I recieve appreciation, attention, good fortune and sympathy from many people. America, Europe, Asia: magazine covers always tell the same story of my hair, my eyes, my nose and my mouth. What the cover photos and stories and writers never say: I have no time. I am a victim of the Public Heidi Klum. I have become a product that will forever be preserved and advertised. About myself, my own life, I haven't found much out yet. As easy as success falls to me and I enjoy it, I notice what goes on around me and what happens to me.
I am on the sunny side of life and would like nothing else than to maintain it, but I am sometimes afraid to ask: Am I missing something? Do I have things too good? What would happen if I suddenly became seriously ill? What should you read if you want to advance further? Am I interested in politics?
Dreams are always that - a longing for something. Whatever I have longed for, I have received. People say I am beautiful, successful and fortunate and envy me. Are you allowed to have dreams if you are as fortunate as I am?
For dreams to have meaning, you must have a knowledge and understanding about yourself. Do I have that? Everyday life is the enemy of critical thought and the thief of time. Therefore, I dream that I do not lose my dream.
As a sequin-seamstress in my dream, I never once believed or said that I would be threatened by losing my dreams. I had no idea that the most natural things in the world would be missing from my life:
Cooking for friends.
Hanging out with friends.
Sewing a dress.
Going to the zoo with my daughter.
Simply staying cozy in bed when I actually must get up.
"Take your time Heidi," I hear people call.
"Work less!"
"You have it in your hand! "
"Do not pity yourself! "
"Enjoy your success and do not feel sorry! "
But having power is not so simple! One must maintain success, for it is a voracious animal always searching for food. Flying around the world, even though I have a fear of flying. Always smile, always be pretty, never swear, never be silly. Identify, interpret, correct, criticize.
In the eyes of my public, I am an icon and a slut at the same time. From the window of my hotel room, I see myself on a kiosk. Is that me, or my doppleganger? Who was there at the photo shoot in Milan three days ago, while I wait here in Los Angeles today for messages from my agent? Was it Heidi #2?
Who sat modeling elegant bustiers while Leni in the studio next door wanted milk? Am I the real person on the cover, holding her friend's arm, or was I lying in bed, dreaming about who the real Heidi Klum is? Can I be present everywhere simultaneously because hundreds of editors use my face and my figure for their products at the same time? Heidi #2 is the transfer, the perfect illusion, the false image for a world-wide audience.
While I work, I have time to speak about my dream that always reappears as it began: it was about a sequin-seamstress that didn't know who she was. She was very young and skillful with her hands, had a formative talent and wanted to conquer the world as a fashion designer. But things turned out completely different.
Or, if you prefer, you can look at some more pictures of Heidi naked:
