On this summer afternoon, I think about my dream. It is so fragile that the telling of it risks its life. Telling someone about your dream is like blowing up a balloon and not tying the end. The very breath that speaks of the heart’s true desire can evaporate the creative energy that hides behind the dream’s force.
A dream is a seed in the soul, the very heart of you. I want to protect mine and nourish it by doing some activity every day which will take me closer to its reality.
Whatever your dream, it is yours and yours alone. Unless you love someone so much and have so much trust in them, perhaps you could tell them. If they do truly appreciate your dream and see you so full of hope then they may be able to witness your highest self.
The moment of telling someone your dream has magical possibilities, yet, is so delicate. You never really know another person until you know their secret dream.
It is then that you feel their power, strength, convictions and you know that they are REAL. They will feel happiness and so will you for you have met soul to sour. The great breath of life has been fanned. Alas, if a dream is exposed to the wrong person who belittles it, it will fade, the color lessening, the shape and size fogging over like a cloud forming when hot air meets a cold front.
The blessed moment is experiencing a dream come true. Pursuit of the dream is nothing in comparison to holding a dream in the palm of your hand, of knowing it is finally yours. A miracle.
If dreaming a dream is walking hand in hand with God, then fulfilling a dream is a glimpse of paradise.
(These words are excerpts from my new non-fiction, Snow Birds, releasing in October.)