Balloons of Expectation

Please stop wanting, wishing and hoping for things that you know cannot and will not come true. Hope is such a fragile thing, yet it has the endurance to keep you holding your breath for days and days. I do not want the inevitable disappointment that comes with breathing in. I never start it. They always entice me with things too real to be resisted, and then back away. I take the small reality and turn it  into a colossal dream that no man could ever hope to support on his shoulders, no matter how broad. But I hold on to it, by the thin strings that I attach to all of these gigantic balloons of possibility. I am left with a hand full of strings and a sky clouded over with voluminous dreams and expectations that shroud my ability to enjoy the reality. Nothing can live up to my hopes. Nothing can measure up to my reality. Yes, have standards. Yes, have ideals. But don’t think you can have your cake and eat it too.

Growing Down

I miss being simple

Without pretense or presumption

Despair, or assumption.

When I was disappointed because dreams were too big,

Not because the smallest thing just wouldn’t work.

My schemas are changing.

As expectation and reality collide repeatedly,

I become the jaded observer.

Dreams

Dreams... the occupation of any mortal with a discerning mind and a soul.

Dreams... our dearly beloved reprieve from the mundane.

Dreams... those created while awake and asleep, the wishes of our hearts.

Dreams... the refreshment of the restless.

Dreams... the sailboat of our imagination.

Right now I wish I was asleep

I often wish it so

I tire of trite consciousness

Unto dreams I wish to go

Where things are so much better

And life hurts not quite so

Until I wake back into pain

Unto dreams I wish to go

Ah, but like all mortal pleasure, how frail are our dreams. How weak the cloud castles we build in the sky of imagination. So often we dream of things reality cannot lend us. Sometimes even things we would loathe if they became realities. I suppose that is the glory of dreams. The possibility without the pain. The promise without the cost. Those are the sweetest dreams- the impossible ones. Because in dreaming they become more tangible and it consoles our need for the physical and attainable. Yet while they can bring relief, they can also bring discontent and cause the chains of our limitations to feel even more restricting. They can alleviate and frustrate us all at the same time.

Is it worth it to hope?

Is it okay to dream? 

If the world falls apart

Then were will I be?

Clutching the dreams

And the hopes I once knew

Clutching the lies

I was hoping were true

My hopes and my dreams 

 Are all that I can claim

But can they relieve me

 Or bring none but pain

Some of us try not to dream. Better to accept what is than waste our time dreaming of what could be. Best not to hope, you will never be disappointed that way. It may seem as though I am confusing the two types of dreaming, but I feel they are inextricably connected. They say nightmares are good for you, your body's way of working out internalized stress. But is dreaming an all together healthy occupation? It is certainly very natural to dream, both dreams our subconscious creates and those we weave ourselves. Does that justify our dreaming? Does dreaming have a purpose? I suppose if one was attentive to one's dreams, we could discover patterns in desire, subconscious attitudes and perceptions and the lack of the things we wish we could erase from our real lives. But does that make them good? Are dreams just another way of coping with the human condition?

The seeker seeks

The dreamer dreams

Both are restless

Un-sewn seams

Tied in knots

While at loose ends

The seeker; the dreamer

Two painful friends

Dreams are bitter.

Dreams are sweet.

Dreams are human.