dreamlife

We talk about dreams as if they are distant, insubstantial, unlikely.

And yet they are the colour and movement that wash through our minds all through the secret hours of darkness. They whisper to us in their strange, ancient language of all the things that we turn away from in our busy wakefulness. 

Stripped of the hard edges of our daily expectation, our hidden desires, our fears, our deepest yearnings are drawn in clear, flowing lines, a tableau where our most precious insights are illuminated. 

This is the land where I roam lightly, where I meet angels and slay monsters, fly over forests and glide under oceans, solve mysteries and save innocents. It's where I live in countless houses, I speak every tongue, I am young, I am old, I am male, I am female, I am neither and I am both. I wear a thousand faces and  I am wrapped in a thousand embraces. 

It's the place where I am hunted by wisdom and found by truth. 

It's where I touch the beating heart of story.