If you have got a #dream, what makes you think you might not
live it? Is it because it’s a dream, or because you couldn’t find it when you
woke up?
But then, how does it manage to make your heart beat faster…
and slower at the same time? How does it make you want to see yourself doing somersaults
in your head?
What is it? Material or air? Where does it exist to be
real? Where do you go to meet it? How does
it reach you?
Why do you see it when the lights go off and silence engulfs
you? Why do you turn to it for hope when there’s none? How does it make you
wake up every day and chase it?
If you have lived one, what does it look like in person, for
I have only seen it in distant lands, at unreachable heights, and in unrealistic
places that don’t seem to exist?
Why does something inside me keeps screaming for it but my
hands never follow, never reach for it? Why do the #fireworks die inside with
time and dust and #doubt and lust?
Why do I wear the shackles when I want to run for it like a
mad dog! ? Why do I (or maybe all of us) wear a parachute in space, pretending
it would land me on that star (the dream) ?
I might not have the answers today but they will find me, that’s what I heard my dream whisper to me. It
says , puncture your parachute and trust your hands for I am ‘everything ‘ they
deserve to have!
The author is talking to herself, not the reader or anyone in particular.
