Life is but a dream

Life is but a dream... much of it seems hazed and surreal, shifting from sadness to joy and stopping here and there in between. Yesterday weaves itself through dreams of tomorrows and today is split evenly between what was and what will be. Life is but a dream...wake me not...for in every dream there is an new me to explore and a new you to discover. Dream your own dreams, weave them into the fabric of mine and share them with all who wish to partake of them. Dream... Dream... Dream...For who can say that their reality is of more importance or woven of a finer fabric than my own.

Dreams are... well, they are dreams... they are made up of our experiences, the sights,scents, sounds,tastes, textures and emotions of our existence. They morph about and shift shapes they are their own reality but are without substance. Ephemeral, Misty shadows that peek into the recesses of our minds when we let down our guard. They show us that which we love, that which we despise, that which we seek and that which we seek to hide. They are our hopes, our aspirations, our desires,our loves, our fears, our likes and dislikes, they are made up of whole cloth, the wholeness of our very being and yet they are not real, they are only dreams...

Did I just sit here and write all this... or is it a dream... for in truth I am but an inarticulate soul... incapable of original thought... dreaming... weaving old thoughts and ancient ideas into my dreamworld and wrapping myself in an imaginary cloak of wispy thoughts that I believe are mine but actually belong to a graduating senior who is quoting some obscure French existentialist. Life is a dream... a wonderful dream...