sleep provides a wonderful loophole for which logic & reason may escape. we may wonder aimless or with exceedingly sharpened and purposeful aim and yet even in my dreams i am afraid to fly. it's one small push and it's like i'm 8 and on ice skates. i have no clue how to stop, instead i simply prepare to smack into something. i star as the heroine, i stand beside an ancient canal, antiquity crumbling all around me, fire burning off somewhere in the background, the ground shakes beneath my feet, a large and heavy marble pillar threatens to tumble as my hand pauses a single moment cupping a cheek as i say good bye before jumping onto the very last boat. whole worlds are made and lives are lived in the span of real world moments, the colours are more vivid the soundtrack is always perfect. anything is everything and everything is anything. and yet perhaps the dreams had with eyes wide open, when we refuse to reach for anything less than everything and when faith and hope are perhaps the only science that supports our endeavours or fuels our passions... perhaps these are the truly daring dreams we dream. Mw/h
