The Dream Within.

Free the dream within
The voices calling, a song
A prayer from deep inside you
To guide you

Be the dream within
The light is shining
A flame on the wind
Salvation begins

Look beyond where hearts can see
Dream in peace
Trust, love, believe


I sometimes sound so angry, when I start talking about what I want, what I believe I deserve, what I won't do without. And that isn't the way it feels inside at all. It's like planning a garden, in some ways, I sometimes think. What you're envisioning is the way light falls across petals and leaves. The sound the wind makes, and the scent it carries with it, when it swirls through the plants. You're thinking about the evenings spent outdoors, in the quiet, just enjoying what you've accomplished, the way the cut flowers will look indoors, the way the herbs will flavour your food, and even the good sort of ache that comes after you've been working hard. You know that your goal is closer, but the tiredness itself is a reward, too, and you know a shower's going to feel great and you're going to drift off to sleep without any trouble. All of that, and more.

But try to describe it to someone else, and what you talk about... are the walls that will define the space. And the borders that will shape it. You lay out the hard lines for them, and you hope that they're understanding enough, and invested enough, to catch the rest of the vision from you, and maybe even that they believe in it firmly enough to roll up their sleeves, and help you make it happen. Not just because you want it, but because the dream became their dream, too, and they're looking forward to seeing it become real.

And I'm lucky, I really am... because I have people around me who, even if the dreams I have aren't theirs, care enough to listen, and try to meet me halfway. Why do I keep trying to explain it? Because people who matter to me keep trying to understand.

Breathe the dream within
The mystifying
We tremble and spin
Suspended within

Look beyond where hearts can see
Dream in peace
Trust, love, believe

We tremble and spin
Suspended within


And one of these days I'll get it right.

(no subject)

That's kind of what I was feeling right now. Like I'd lucked into a peek at one of the big mysteries of the world, and if I kept it to myself, then I'd always be a part of it. It'd be our secret. Something nobody could ever take away from me.

(Dreams Underfoot, Charles de Lint, p. 116)

And I guess as long as I'm on the subject of dreams... the other thing that makes them hard to talk about, is that strong wanting to hold them secret. I'm strange, maybe, in that the things which bother me, anymore, aren't the things I hold secret. The things that leak badness into my internal landscape and poison the groundwater that feeds my soul's roots don't get to stay buried. I've learned at least that much.

But it means that what people see most of in me is those excavations. The empty spaces and upheavals and the wilted areas... and the gemstones (yeah, everyone has 'em, I'm not different) stay tucked safely away.

Thing about dreams that stay tucked away? They're the dreams you didn't make happen. A dream come true is hard to hide. But dreams that didn't come true stay dreams only if they're wrapped around some moment when they felt possible.

( So let me tell you about one of those dreams. )

you know....

Appearing on television within twenty-four hours of your kid's admission that he planted 18 pipe bombs, and making the statement "my son is not a dangerous person" doesn't help his case. It only makes you look either feeble or plain fuckwitted.