“Stop dreaming. Start doing.” But words and pictures sail a rolling ocean, flail against a roiling sky and come to land. “Stop doing. Start dreaming.”
“Take up your bed and walk,” says He, healing the voice still talking sleep. I dream of walking, wake still seeking heaven’s plans for me.
“Dream it. Do it,” says the sage. My dreams are peaceful beaches where the rolling oceans surge. Dreaming of sleep I try to stay awake.
I dreamed I led a child along a path, holding him tight. I dreamed the child grew wings and flew and carried me to heaven.
Fathers and mothers, dreaming glorious futures for our kids, hold ourselves back, those futures theirs to live. Fathers and mothers’ dreams promise loving and giving.
Dreams are made for nighttime. Come the daytime they’re not true. Come the waketime they’re the way to turn night into day. I’m dreaming sometime.