Waking Dreams

For some reason, I thought about dreams a lot yesterday (and seem to be thinking about them today, as well). I've been thinking about dreams that die and, for me, have died -- such as dreams of becoming an artist or an author or, mostly, a pilot. Yet, even though so many dreams have died and I have had to let go of them, I keep dreaming big dreams. I have huge dreams usually, it would seem, if I look at them from the perspective of reality. Yet, why should I dream anything smaller? Waking dreams, which are, of course, far more powerful than unconscious dreams, help give meaning to life and hope to man's future. Mankind would lose nigh all hope if people were to stop dreaming. We need, it seems, to know that other people dream, even if we ourselves do not. I suppose part of that is the child-like hope that dreamers have that inspires others.

For centuries, men dreamed of flying, and all who were realistic said it couldn't happen. Those realists are now gently mocked because two men who were dreamers taught mankind how to fly. So why should people not dream fantastical things? Yes, many times dreams die, and yes, sometimes reality really hurts, but we must never stop dreaming! For, truly, which would be worse: to live in a world without dreams or to suffer the broken heart of a trampled dream? I have chosen, I think, and shall continue to choose, I hope, the latter whene'er the choice must be made.