Dreams

When I was a child, nothing seemed impossible. My life opened up like the sky in my mind, a vast and endless universe of possibilities.

All of my dreams were within reach.

This wasn't wishful thinking - it was Truth.

I ran through the weeds of my sloped backyard and dreamed - dreamed big. I was an artist, a scientist, a goddess. I was anything I wanted to be. Anything within the realm of my imagination became a new possible future. I was an architect, a writer, a princess. Why not? Why wouldn't I be able to do these things? My arms branched out and surrounded these dreams, engulfed them, and they were accepted.

Everything was possible.

With age came responsibility, rationality, and quietly the dreams hid themselves away,

forgotten.

Forgotten. But not Lost.

Every now and then one peeks its grinning, eager eyes around a corner, and I catch it and watch it grow. Memory fills me up like sunlight, starting at my fingers, working its way deep inside me, radiant. It looks at me, expectant, with a casual determined smile.

And waits.

And slowly, I begin to learn once more how to Dream...