"Dreams are like the paints of a great artist. Your dreams are your paints, the world is your canvas. Believing is the brush that converts your dreams into a masterpiece of reality."
We all have dreams. Sometimes they can become reality. Sometimes they are so far off that the vision disappears and we never arrive. A dream is almost like a mirage.
Sometimes when we try to reach it, it simply disappears before our grasp, but we keep trying. We keep seeking. And part of the joy is the journey.
Perhaps they will be mirages and just disappear like a reflection in the water, like when the butterfly reaches out to touch his reflection and finds there is not another butterfly there.
"The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle."
Then I met this man on the lake of dreams. He told me something about himself. He told me how he came to this lake to dream. He talked about how he saw a deer everyday who swims across the lake. And then he told me of his dream.
He dreamed of having a boat so he could cross the lake like the deer. He told me as he watched a small boat on the other side of the bank. The boat was distant and could barely be seen on this overcast day. You could see in his eyes his dream, how he would love to be on a boat. To wander near the far banks. To see what life was like on the other side. His dream.
He was an old man with a young dream. And to him it was a dream that would never be. It was always slipping from his grasp, disappearing before his very eyes. He has been dreaming this dream for years, wishing for his boat to take him places he has never been.
"I learned that there were two ways I could live my life: following my dreams or doing something else. Dreams aren't a matter of chance, but a matter of choice. When I dream, I believe I am rehearsing my future."
When I left the old man I walked down the bank and around the bend. Sitting there was a derelict canoe that sat there rubbing against the bank. Perhaps lost or abandoned, it sat there, the vision of the old man's dream just out of sight.
I have thought of the old man and wondered, did he find his dream? Or did it just remain out of his sight, and his dream continued to be a mirage? I also wondered if the boat was lost from its owners who would find it, but it was most likely abandoned.
I do wonder if the old man's dream became real or if it continues to be a mirage in his thoughts.
I hope you all find beauty beyond your wildest expectations, that you feel the pulse and flow of nature that I so much enjoy. I hope that your spirits and creativeness leads to new avenues of wonderment and that you find amazement in this thing we call life.