To My Dreams.

You intrigue me. Sometimes, you escape me. Always, you excite me.
You are varied and intense and often disconnected.
Occasionally, I don't even know who you are.

But you come back. You always come back.

Africa. You have come and gone, fluttering in and out of my mind often in the last 8 years (or so). But it's like, even when I don't see you, you are there, just hovering beneath the horizon of consciousness, off the coast of Maine. The orphanage. Mm, the orphanage. Drakensburg mountains. Hopping from village to village, hut to hut. Giraffes and zebras in the wild, beckoning for me to run freely with them, wind in our hair, dirt as old as Moses stuck beneath fingernails.

Marriage. I dream of you regularly. Married now to the Prince. To my Prince, the One who bought me with a price, proclaimed His love after knocking on my door, after discussing the bride price with my Father. But one day, marriage here, on earth. Sleeping in on Saturday mornings. Chai together at night, after work. Being a poor, young, married couple. But knowing and feeling and tasting love.

Teaching. My dream (mostly) come true. "You are a great teacher, but do not teach. Act." I think of that quote often, from "Educating Esme", my favorite book about teaching to date. That moment, when it clicks. Making phonics more interesting and fun. Googling because a student asks about the 3-legged man born in Sicily in the 1800s. But I want my own class, my own set of 50 eyes looking up at me, expectantly, blank canvases onto which I can help create a masterpiece with crayon, paint, pastels, or whatever medium they choose. They each have talents and abilities that are waiting to be discovered, but we have to look.

I want to look.
And explore.
And love.
And be.
And become.

So dreams... Dreams. Take me there with you. Let's run away, spending an afternoon just dreaming. Our own romantic rendezvous. I'll bring the chocolate, you bring the paper. As time passes, I hope you grow bigger, not stifled by "reality" or "maturity" or whatnot. Let's be real, but let's also be real intense.

Love,
the Dreamer.