The Dream

There was a dream that started it all. A place in my heart where I knew that fairytales though hardly real were and are quite possible when placed in the most unseen scenarios at just the right moments in time. That next to candle light people still wrote in cursive on lined paper in journals that are hidden in drawers underneath folded button up shirts. That when you look at a flickering flame it causes your serene thoughts to have drops of chaos drip into them and spread, soon disperse within a mind sea. And somewhere I knew in my gypsy soul and my wanderer’s heart that I’ve been trying to accomplish what I couldn’t in a past life, because the story of my life isn’t something new or something I haven’t faced before. Perhaps it’s also my existential philosophy that has guided me thus far. I just know one thing to be true, when I put my pen to paper there’s something that’s missing in my world, and when I look at a flickering flame it makes me wonder even more if I can make the fairytale within that dream real.