We all have a dream–something that puts a spring in our steps and a gleam in our eyes. Dreams are those wonderful things as filmy as spiders’ webs, as substantial as moonbeams, somewhere ahead of us, calling to us to follow, to pursue, to hope, to reach. We can spin dreams of the straw of everyday happenings and turn them into gold (see the folktale, Rumpelstiltskin.) Dreams are those things we reach for and, if we are blessed, we grab them and turn them into reality.
There’s an old song, When I Grow Too Old to Dream. But, really, do we ever grow too old to dream? I think not. Dreams may change with years or they may not. One single, burning dream may stay with us forever.
Dreams are vital, intangible, but to the dreamer as real as her heartbeat. What one person yearns for another may already have. What is a precious and treasured hope for one may not even register on another’s scale of importance. We all, however, have dreams or a dream, a secret, warm something that belongs to no one else. That dream is like an invisible friend–encouraging us not to give up nor quit but always, always to follow.
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