I had a dream. I nestled it close to my heart like a mother guarding its cub.
I kept it away from all eyes and ears until I felt I could achieve it.
I cupped it in the crook of my palms and held it not too tight, not too loose.
I did not talk about it to people for the fear that it would not be so magical afterwards.
Like a fistful of sand that falls through the sieve leaving behind the fine grains, I polished it until it shone like a diamond, nurtured it until it grew into a sturdy thought, refined it until the coarse edges where smoothened, leaving only the cultured pearl within the oyster…
Then one day, another thought crept in… another kind of a reverie… a different sort of a vision…
It scared me until I could barely think about the changes that it would wreck on the unique reverie that I cherished…
It was like a breath of fresh air... it was radical, intrepid and daring… it still awoke that sense of nervousness in me at the thought of transformation or amendment of my novel thought…
And then like a careless whisper, it murmured into my being that it was there to help me evolve and not to completely alter me… like the soft fluttering of the leaves in the wind, it gave me hope… faith in it, to understand and appreciate the being that it was… it filled me with a sense of optimism that, together the thoughts and dreams, if merged into one, could make much more headway into making the possessors happier than what it was meant to be…
It filled me with a sense of elation and a new dream…
And my cup runneth over …..
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