Perhaps life is just that...a dream and a fear.

His so-fucking-vivid imagination rarely gave him the horrors but when it did God help him. God help him once it was warmed up. It was not only warmed up now it was hot and running on full choke. That there was no sense at all in what he was thinking made not a whit of difference in the dark. In the dark rationality seemed stupid and logic a dream. In the dark he thought with his skin.

Plans never go as planned ever thats just how life is. People spend way too much time dreaming about a future they should be having more nightmares warning them against. But that doesnt mean you should let those bad dreams scare you away all those nightmares want is respect. If you give them that theyll give you the space you need. Unless of course theyre the type of nightmares that have an appetite then youre fucked.

And in that moment of sun and joy Lupe knew why she loved and also hated Salvador. He gave her wings. He didnt try to lock her in as had Jaime and the other boys shed known. No she could dream her wildest dreams with him and so she loved him for this but she also hated him because it made her fearful. No one in her family was like this. They were always very cautious.

Nobody ever talks about the pyramids that werent built the books that werent written the songs that werent sung. Stop letting your fear condemn you to mediocrity. Get out of your own way. Your dreams are a poetic reflection of your souls wishes. Be courageous enough to follow them. There is no greater time than now to experience the full power of your potential. Make this the day you take the first step in the beautiful journey of bringing your dreams to life.

The hoopoe said Your hearts congealed like iceWhen will you free yourself from cowardiceSince you have such a short time to live hereWhat difference does it make What should you fearThe world is filth and sin and homeless menMust enter it and homeless leave again.They die as worms in squalid pain if weMust perish in this quest that certainlyIs better than a life of filth and grief.If this great search is vain if my beliefIs groundless it is right that I should die.So many errors throng the world - then whyShould we not risk this quest To suffer blameFor love is better than a life of shame.No one has reached this goal so why appealTo those whose blindness claims it is unrealId rather die deceived by dreams than giveMy heart to home and trade and never live.Weve been and heard so much - what have we learnedNot for one moment has the self been spurnedFools gather round and hinder our release.When will their stale insistent whining ceaseWe have no freedom to achieve our goalUntil from Self and fools we free the soul.To be admitted past the veil you mustBe dead to all the crowd considers just.Once past the veil you understand the WayFrom which the crowds glib courtiers blindly stray.If you have any will leave womens storiesAnd even if this search for hidden gloriesProves blasphemy at last be sure our questIs not mere talk but an exacting test.The fruit of loves great tree is povertyWhoever knows this knows humility.When love has pitched his tent in someones breastThat man despairs of life and knows no rest.Loves pain will murder him and blandly askA surgeons fee for managing the task -The water that he drinks brings pain his breadIs turned to blood immediately shedThough he is weak faint feebler than an antLove forces him to be her combatantHe cannot take one mouthful unawareThat he is floundering in a sea of care.

Her world fragmented into dozens of sharp cutting shards shedding the salty blood and saltier tears that ringed the bitter cocktail of her despair. She was caterpillar and butterfly both caught in a cocoon of raw nerves and open sores she was insanity wrapped up in the thin transient wrappings of a temporary lucidity and she was afraid because an innate desire lay in the bottom reaches of her psyche for the very poison that was killing her.

To write as if your life depended on it to write across the chalkboard putting up there in public the words you have dredged sieved up in dreams from behind screen memories out of silence-- words you have dreaded and needed in order to know you exist.

How blessed are some people whose lives have no fears no dreads to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly and brings nothing but sweet dreams.

Who wants to live in fear when you can live in hope.