the width of a dream can be measured by the elation of hope growing in the thought of it. always dream always grow and one morning when the dream is ended discover the shade tree of a dream grown tall strong and majestic. the dream could be now. it could be. all the possibilities of the infinite tomorrow unfolding between before the sleepers eye. all the mystery of us wrapped up inside ourselves, desperately reaching toward the moon light for a chance to take hold, grow strong, and finally at the end of our lives slumber erupt into a shower of fond memories and the dappled comfort of October sky fall. a thousand dandelion seeds of us drifting softly down to settle upon the fertile earth of the drifting mind. only a fleeting memory and tiny tears of sand to remind us of when we could fly.