Dream Threads

I convince myself that if I dream long and hard enough it will come true.

Maybe because I believe if I dream long and hard enough I will never wake up.

Dreams are enticing in the most delightful way. They twirl and twist reality until it is a mangled up, yet beautiful mess.  They contain intricate loose-ends that can seamlessly sew themselves back together in the brink of an instant.  Who wouldn’t be addicted to such an appealing state of existence, where there is no right or wrong, and where up is down and down is up and so forth? And even so, who could blame one for being hooked on such a thing?  

Life is difficult, and there is absolutely no question there. To live is to be weighed down with mind boggling tongue twisters of an elders wisdom; things that can never be understood. To breathe is to wish upon a star, only to be crushed in the straining process and to find yourself pondering aimlessly why you ever started to breathe in the first place.

When I check my pulse, I can feel my heart alive underneath my fingertips.

I just want to ask it, “Why?”

Why does it keep pulsing, never missing a beat?

A dream is refreshing. There are no mind boggling tongue twisters. There is no disappointment, heavy enough to crush the breath out of ones lungs.

In a dream, there just is. While in life, there just was.  

As I lay down at night, I feel every burden from the day gently lift from my shoulders, as I drift off into my Wonderland. While there are no smiling cats or mad hatters, there is a rabbit hole, and as I fall, I think nothing will catch me.