The world is quite ruthless in selecting between the dream and the reality, even where we will not.
The world is quite ruthless in selecting between the dream and the reality, even where we will not.
And the dreams so rich in color. How else would death call you? Waking in the cold dawn it all turned to ash instantly. Like certain ancient frescoes entombed for centuries suddenly exposed to the day.
In his dream she was sick and he cared for her. The dream bore the look of sacrifice but he thought differently. He did not take care of her and she died alone somewhere in the dark and there is no other dream nor other waking world and there is no other tale to tell.
In the night's in their thousands to dream the dreams of a child's imaginings, worlds rich or fearful such as might offer themselves but never the one to be.
Listen to me, he said, when your dreams are of some world that never was or some world that never will be, and you're happy again, then you'll have given up. Do you understand? And you can't give up, I won't let you.
What he could bear in the waking world he could not by night and he sat awake for fear the dream would return.
When your dreams are of some world that never was or of some world that never will be and you are happy again then you will have given up.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories