Change of Scenery
What if I were looking at my present life from some place in the future?
Would all this seem like a short (but necessary) chapter?
Would heartache reveal its purpose?
Does this future-dreaming affect the way I see the now? (Yes, of course)
How realistic is that?
Do I set myself up for disappointment by dreaming?
Is it really fair (to myself, to others) to dream such dreams with so little chance of success?
Are these whispers of a future life or an empty mirage of hopeful fantasy?
Does fantasy only serve to escape the present or does fantasy serve as a window, a looking glass, a new set of lens to a present life that is too painfully blinding to gaze straight upon it?
What is the role of impossible dreams?
Do they create unnecessary friction with the present or extraordinary faith for the future?
What is the sense in being practical? If it is the dreams that make you come alive?
Is the stuckness of the present moment overcome by gritting my teeth and facing the dim or by unlocking an imagination wild with color?
Is it okay to want impossible things?
To pretend to fly, for instance?
Or to imagine myself a wind impervious to impact?
Or to dream of a love that does not hurt me?