The Stuff of Dreams

Some people just have the gift. Most of us look at life, at the world around us, and all we see is what’s actually there. A tree, a rock, a house, the sky. Ah, but there are others who can see beyond what is. For theirs is the gift of vision, of imagination, of hope, of dreams. No, they aren’t fortune tellers, they are merely willing to look beyond tangible reality into the realm of what could be, of what has yet to be invented and created. They look at a seed and see an enormous tree. They look at barren ground and see a grand structure. They look at life and they see life improved upon. When regular folks like you and I try to envision the same things we get all bogged down in the details. We can’t see past the cost and the time, the weather and whatever else could get in the way. For us, the dream most often dies before it even begins because it becomes entangled in the thorns of our worry and disbelief. Yet, for those who know how to dream the world is their oyster, and life is an adventure. But there is hope for us yet, friends. We, who were not born with the dream gene, being of the more cynical persuasion, can still learn from those whose feet tread in both worlds. Those folks can provide a lot of encouragement if we watch them closely and listen to their words. We just need to take our dreams out of that old box in the attic, dust them off and try them back on. Some will be beyond repair, but other may viable. New dreams can be a good thing as well. Sometimes our life experience has shown us new directions for our hearts to go. We may even have to begin with small dreams, confidence builders that are easily attained, and limber up by imagining and pursuing them. But it can be done. Now gaze off into the haze of the future. Brush back the overhanging limbs of distraction, maybe squint just a little and perhaps our dreams may come back into focus. Oh, they’re out there, just waiting for us. So take a chance. Lean back in your chair, think about what matters most to you and dream just a little. That’s how it begins.

The Stuff of Dreams
A most unusual stuff
This stuff of dreams
Intangible, yet so real
Which, though unseen
Can loom so large
Not something you touch, but feel
Sometimes so elusive
It seems to drift
Like a mist or a cloud without form
Yet sometimes so powerful
As to rush through
Our lives like a thundering storm
Some would say the oasis
Is just a mirage
They see nothing more than sand
And doubtless they
Shall find just that
The unbelieving, who don't understand
Yet, for those who are willing
To look beyond
With the will and the vision to see
To them is revealed
The stuff of dreams
Not what is, ah ... but what could be
By Frank Carpenter ©