I like to dream.
Everyone does though I suppose.
I don't dream in the sense that you'd probably think.
Not when I sleep.
Lord knows I do enough of that,
but I'm incapable of dreaming at night,
I think that's why I sleep so much.
Each time I lay down I pray that,
Just one single,
lonely dream will come.
It doesn't though.
I keep trying though,
day after day,
and I promise I'm not just giving an excuse for me taking so many naps.
Although I do,
I'll admit that.
But since I don't dream when sleep,
I settle for dreaming when I'm awake,
some call it daydreaming.
I make up these situations in my mind,
where I'm happy beyond belief.
I imagine that I'm in an empty field,
running free.
I imagine I'm up in space,
with the stars.
A place that I've admired for so long,
I imagine I'm there.
Far away from this place,
and the hurt that exists here.
I'm not going to say I hate my life,
because that would be a lie.
I'm simply going to say that I'm not satisfied with my life.
There are so many places I'd rather be than down here,
with gravity pinning me to this
seemingly two dimensional place.
I imagine sitting and conversing,
with all of my idols.
Smoking a joint with Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix,
sitting down to tea with Cass Elliot and John Lennon.
Imagining what it would be like,
to be extraordinary like them.
Then I come back to the present,
as my teacher wraps up his lecture,
and remember where I am.
Then,
I once again accept that fact that I'll have to keep leading this ordinary life,
hoping for the chance one day to escape,
to the stars,
or maybe the moon,
the place that doesn't
hold me down,
and make me keep my feet on the ground.
The place where I can fly,
and dance,
and love,
and sing,
and dream.
Endlessly.