“Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.” ― Oscar Wilde,
“Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.” ― Edgar Allan Poe,
I couldn’t pick which quote I wanted more today. They are both so apropos.
I dream big. I fear big. This causes an unending stream of anxiety and depression with massive ups, and terrible downs.
I love to create. I love knitting, reading, crafting, writing. My body, though, hates me. My wrist cause painful numbness in my hands (carpal tunnel), my back and neck crick and crack (osteoarthritis in my upper spine), my hips bemoan me (bursitis, sciatica – I fell down some stairs almost two years ago and still have not healed). My knees snap and crackle with derision (possibly arthritic), my feet prickle and groan when I walk (plantar fasciitis), and the mind grows exhausted; ever fighting the good fight (Multiple sclerosis).
I still dream big. I dream of being so healthy that not even my kids can keep up. I dream of hiking again in the woods, following what ever deer trail presents itself. I dream of creating creatures from clay, writing my ever more distant novel, completing a tome of poetry. I dream of recording myself reading to my youngest, singing lullabies, rocking it out at a concert without needing a seat close by.
I dream of being free of anxiety and fear. Confident in every stride I take, every word I write, every thought spoken.
I dream that this year I will finally find a way to make it all happen. That the pain, fear, anxiety, exhaustion will all fall away with the spring rains, and never return.
A woman can dream, right?
Aerosmith – Dream On