Transported from one world to the next, my mind melts. They say it’s dangerous to dream in color, and in black in white. It’s dangerous to read inside your own mind.

Well screw it, I say! To hell with it all. If I’m going to dream, I will dream bold. I will dream big, and I will capture the stars. I will release them in my sleep, and watch the sky fall.

When I dream, I feel sensations. I smell the sound, and I taste the wind. When I dream, even the smallest detail comes to life. “Well, she’s a dreamer,” most will say. Aye, that I am. I am a dreamer of bold new worlds, of places I’ve never been.
I see faces I’ve never met. I can read the lines in books, and watch the colors evaporate.

I think this is what has made me so very different, these dreams that I have. They awaken me. They change me. They shape me. They mold me into who I am. A dreamer who can dream of the world ending and beginning again. A dreamer who has touched the sky, and tasted the wind.

In dreams I can paint landscapes, and change the faces that I know. In dreams I can eat foods I’ve never cooked, and never eaten before. In dreams I can face myself, and say “I love you.” I can kiss the friends I’ve lost long ago. In dreams, I am free. I am free to be me. Whatever that is, who knows? I surely don’t, but in my dreams I do. I know who I am, and I see my true colors. I can flex the muscles that have laid dormant for years. I have the chance to renew my mind daily, and live freely in another world. I can face my own monsters, and say that I’ve won.

I used to fear my mind, like a wild horse fears it’s own shadow when captured in a pin. I used to shake my head and pinch my skin. “Is this real?” I would question. Yes, surely it is. It’s as real as anything else, yet it’s so very unreal. Our lives are unreal, as we put on our masks for our daily tasks. Credit cards, money, even cash. All these things feel the most unreal. Who is it telling me my worth? My hourly wage, my salary cost? Who is it who says this banana costs a dime, a nickel, or a quarter? Who truly knows it’s worth?

Yet daily, I come alive. I have the chance to free my mind. This world is cruel, with it’s wicked twists and turns. A society plagued by it’s shallow untruth. I use to say I was a mad man, that I had dissented into the less sane. Now I’ve realized it’s this world that is insane.

I’m proud to be who I am, and who I ain’t. I’m not cut out for this White Man’s world, for I dream in colors so bold they break the mold. My mother would say I was a genius, and I would properly decline. I’m more like a caged bird who learns how to fly.  Every night I stretch my wings and get up to sing. I can dance, I can rejoice, and I can see again. See the colors once known.

I may be a dreamer, and perhaps so are you. But you know what I truly am? A person with a voice so very little know. A person with feelings and fears. A person with a past like a shadowy claw. A person with a future bright for all. A person with a face who smiles at the dawn. A person who laughs when the child plays. A person with hope that someday.. we may all dream again.

Maybe that makes me crazy. Maybe that’s just what makes me who I am. In the end, no one really knows the voice inside our heads. We lay our minds to rest on our comfortable pillows. Maybe yours is made of straw. Be friends with yourself, and who you all are. It’s okay to dream bold, or to dream in black and white. What isn’t okay is saying I can’t dream when I know that I can.

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