Back to dreaming

You can't lose what you've always had

Remember when it was not a problem to dream?

Remember when you were little?

And you spent hours with your best friend,

without the interruption of electronics,

just talking, making up stories about the future.

 

You spoke about whatever you wanted to be when you grow up.

Possibilities were unlimited, and in your heart, you had truth,

plus no one judged your choices, even when you changed them daily,

according to the changes of your heart,

a place where your secrets hide from the world, but are known only to God,

who resides in your heart.

 

But when did you die?

Sorry, I mean when did your dreams die?

Shall we blame school?

A place, full of rules that contradict your heart.

A place where judgement sits in the front row

and children give up innocence for education which may or may not prepare

you for what lies ahead.

Surely you ate lies about the things you can’t do,

the places you can’t go, the dreams you can’t have,

because you are too short, too poor, too ugly, too fat or too anything that whomsoever decides not to like.

 

And now, look at the mess you’ve become.

TV decides for you, telling you what to eat,

what to wear, what to buy, how to sleep, how to grow up,

how to get married, how to raise kids and even how to dream,

by making sure that your dreams become events, not ideas,

making sure you stay a consumer, not a producer.

You are glued to a screen which prevents you from dreaming,

like you did as a child.

 

But wait a minute!

I see a little movement.

A stirring up inside your heart, a tiny flame, blowing

in the wind of your life, growing, and becoming a wild fire, bringing back the good old days,

when it was possible to dream, and now you’re reconnected with your best friend, and it feels just right.

You wanna know where he’s been all your life, those long, dry nights when you cried yourself to sleep, those cold winter days when darkness invaded the daylight and you felt like a frozen fish, especially those moments when you cried against injustice, against racial hatred, against murder, against rape, against adultery, but your opened mouth seemed to have no voice.

Where were you, my friend?

Where were you?

He looks at you with a smile, and replies, “Will you believe me if I tell you? Will you dream again?”

Yes! Yes! I want to dream again.

So, He whispers ever so softly, “I was always in your heart.”

Author's Note

Be bold

Reviews

[CAPOLAVORO]

Nice transition. It gave me the feeling of being self aware into the reality of how the world of life slowly changes us.