Dream on
reminiscence · Chopin – Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2 "Stop dreaming, and you will have nothing but hands to swipe away your tears..." Dreams are hopes and aspirations we treasure, perhaps more than ourselves. In the quietness of the night when all the living sleep, they come to life. The sub-conscious comes to play in the field of the mind. Without trying, we weave ideas within ideas, the magical universe of dreams, man has so imagined, but could not make it real, is the sanctuary without limit man imposed on the self. Like butterflies, the Deja-vu flashes by amidst the fragrant flowers of memories no more submerged in the depth of mind. Time is irrelevant. Only imagination is. It is the key to unlock the door of impossibility. Beyond their lives only treasured moments. And as we come to the surface of consciousness, we try to grasp that. But that is forgotten as we force the self to immerse itself in the mundane. Forgotten but not forever for they live on when we dream again. D