Those funny little things called dreams.

There have been a lot of dreams.

Sweet dreams, wished upon me by parents. Dreams of marshmallow pillows, and chocolate fountains. Dreams of magic and fairies and never-ending stories.

Dreams that I have woken up from with a smile.

There have been other dreams, too.

The type to wake me shivering, shaking the badness out of my mind. Dreams that have wrenched me awake.

There have been dreams that have never left me; that I’ll always remember – either with a shiver or a smile.

There have been dreams I’ve forgotten the moment I’ve opened my eyes – the only lingering evidence, a feeling in my heart of something... something.

There have been dreams which I’ve tried desperately to escape from and lucid dreams (which are very strange).

There have been fever dreams too – which are the worst.

These twist and snake through my mind. Nonsensical. Reality and fiction blur through the mind. Is that a door? Now, I’m falling through trees. These are the ones, that leave the stomach squirming. Better have a bin near by. 

There been day dreams too – these I don’t mind.

Day dreams, where my eyes are open but mind is far away – maybe it’s stuck in yesterday, overplaying a good memory, maybe it’s in a land of nostalgia ten years away; maybe it’s in a land of fantasy (another novel I’ll never write).

There are the other dreams too. Dreams of things I want to do.

Travel the world; India, Australia, Singapore. Skydive out of a plane. Drive down route 66. Eat pastries in Paris and pasta in Rome.

So many cliches. 

But what of the other dreams. Which are scary to think about – the dreams that are plans and ambitions, hopes and aspirations.

They are there – buried deep within but saying them out loud seems much too scary.

These are things I will measure my success by. Things I want to do, want to achieve.

But what if failure comes knocking. Or worse, what if success is there, only for me to realise the wrong dream has been chased.

Wish I could have a dream tonight, which will show me my life ten years down the road – these decisions I’m making right now – are they right or wrong. These choices – will they make me smile or will I just be stuck in a bad, bad dream.

Guess I’ll just have to wait and see.

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One thought on “Those funny little things called dreams.

  1. Pingback: #BeReal – DAVID ELLIS | toofulltowrite (I've started so I'll finish)

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