Dreams

Dreams are clouds that drift across the sky of our mind. Sometimes they float. Sometimes they scurry. Sometimes they are light and fluffy. Sometimes they are dark and ominous. Sometimes they are bright and luminous. Sometimes they seem to last forever. Sometimes they seem to evaporate as quickly as they form. Often they are tenuous and ill defined and yet when viewed from the distance of our remembrance they appear with great clarity. They seem to come and go at will. But not our own. They are a part of us and yet separate. We gaze up at them, like Icarus, with longing for the freedom promised there. Life without a dream is like a hot, brassy August sky without a cloud. Empty. Miserable. Unending. It must be endured, not lived. It must be tolerated, not anticipated. Such was my life, a cloudless, hot August sky. Empty. Miserable. Unending. No dreams on my horizon. Until now.
A great and glorious cloud has filled my sky, towering high above the plateau of my consciousness. Dreams abound. They float, they scurry, they loom. They play across my mind like rabbits jumped from a thicket, racing off in all directions. Anticipation flows through my veins like a newly filled river at the start of the rainy season in the vast, desolate Savannah that was my existence. Rest and peace engulf me as the shadow of this dream crosses the event horizon of my life. Whether this cloud sticks on me like a cloud on Kilimanjaro or the hot winds of fate blow it from my life, I will luxuriate in its presence while I may. I will cherish its existence, its worth and its contribution to my life as long as I am able. You are that cloud, my dream. My peace.