Those who say dreams are not real have never felt the breath of a ghost or looked deep into the pit of loss, suddenly encompassed by the sense of emptiness, of being nothing.
It is not the solid, physical world which feeds the flame that warms the soul, keeping the heart free from the frozen wasteland of hopelessness.
It is the self, the dreams, hopes, fears, regrets, pain and sorrows that make us human.
All the things that make us who we were, are and perhaps will be.
We sometimes underestimate the power of hope or the lack thereof as fuel to the person’s purpose, existence and self.
That which exists in all of us but can not be touched or measured.
Sometimes you do not see you have lost hope, until you glimpse it again.