Dreaming Only Dreaming

I dreamed I was a writer, the pen I could not put down. And in the dream my books would fill the Library in my town. Ah, but too the Lord hath spoken says he. "There's no financial gain, its wealth will come to those who read the books that print your name". This did not make me happy for I was almost broke and I says "Lord there's no incentive when you do for other folk" But as I floated around the Library for in the dream this was the case I learned that money did not matter much when put in its rightful place. It was here the thought occurred to me 'A Revelation of past years' that is took this Library of books to release my childhood fears. For I was known as a deep thinker, one rarely heard me speak but when I put the pen to paper the Mississippi sprang a leak. In flooding my experiences from page to endless page I faced my inner shadow released it from it's cage. Perhaps I misinterpreted for the Lord would speak no wrong and sweetly, oh, so sweetly my voice returned in song. For the first to read the books of course before they were put on any shelf, was now Author and Editor of the wealth I bought myself.