Though we think of ourselves as singular, we are also communal, drawing from communal consciousness. The flip-side, we are also distracted by the hustling, the strife of a working day. At night they dream...we write!~ their sleeping dreams, fantasies our dawns for inspiration, tuneful-receptors-firing-poetic-alive.
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Our dream state minds are but a canvas of illusion, painted by the whimsical strokes of memories gone by, hopes of fantasies yet to come, and fears deeply embedded within our fragile glass walled souls. Only when we break free from the confines of our own self doubt can we truly embrace the stories that define all that we are, all that we were, and all that we are destined to become.
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Living out our dreams and fantasies, letting go of our pains and sufferings, we write to make things seem right.
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