They say I’m a dreamer. They say I’m lost. They think I do not belong to the present but thrive in a world of my own. They watch me stare into oblivion and cannot help but mock at me. They think they’re the lucky ones. Little do they know how much they’re missing out on.
They would think dreamers only ponder, hopelessly. This is not true in most cases. Dreaming sets you thinking- thinking about things you would not or could not, in the normal course. It gives you this bizarre liberty to conjure the fate of your thought as opposed to reality where destiny is the conjurer. It allows your mind to wander; wander and access those parts of yourself that you would not dare to. It gives you relief from the tiresome reality.
Most dreamers don’t even know that they’re blessed such.
I’m most grateful to my parents for having discovered the dreamer in me. More than anything, dreaming helps me find solace; solace, that no matter what, at least my impossible desires exist somewhere. It’s therapeutic. It doesn’t matter how bleak the chances are for such desires to actually materialise; the very fact that they have transformed from impossible to probable (despite their inconsequential form) seems miraculous, subsequently kindles effort towards the goal.
Dreams can be inspirational. They can be superior substitutes to the pearls of wisdom that leaders and successful men across the world discourse. The mind grasps that it can rely on itself for the necessary once-in-a-while-kicks. Dreamers eventually grow strong.
I think it’s pretty clear now, that dreaming is not bad. Dreamers, don’t give up dreaming. After all, dreaming is believing.
I am a dreamer, and proud.