on dreams, and dreaming

On Dreams and Dreaming

The hill was tall and rocky against a cloudy sky, with a stone lighthouse piercing the sky at the top.  I never understood why, but I felt I needed to get to that lighthouse more than anything else in the world, and scrambled feverishly up the hill towards it with every bit of my strength. My hands and bare feet were scratched, bruised and bloody by the time I crested the hill, and just as I found my footing it happened.  Just as it happened every time.