Ever wonder where dreams come from?

The natural obvious answer would be your head. You’d be right, too- but that’s a whole different story. The real question is where they go. 

See, every time you dream a dream, a small seed is born in your mind, a tiny new particle of wonder. It tries to take root and grow, but your mind is so precarious, ever-changing. Definitely no place for a seed to grow.                   What with all the changes of thoughts, twisting pathways and the general chaos of a growing mind, such a sensitive, unstable being as a dream wouldn’t last a day. 

So this is where wind comes in.                                                                   She mostly sits on her throne in the sky, occasionally chatting with the stars, or more often sending her fairies off on random (mostly useless) quests to keep them busy. But the most important job she trusts to no one but herself.

when wind gets word of a new dream being born, she leaps up in a whirl of excitement and sweeps down to collect this most precious treasure (which, in case you’re wondering, is why there are seasons. Some times are simply better than others for dreams.) She flies so fast that her momentum sweeps the dream clean out of your mind (hence people calling cool gusts of air wind. Stipid people). She catches it, and stores the dream in her heart for safekeeping. The heart is the best place for storing dreams, because there they can store up on plenty of love and warmth and strength(and courage, too). Usually, dreams that don’t come true are ones that didn’t receive enough love. Once the dream had drunk it’s fill of love, wind carefully and painstakingly plants the seed in the Garden of Dreams.

It’s a gigantic picture, so vast that it requires a second world to hold it.           There are rows upon rows of plants and trees and flowers,hundreds of thousands of millions of them. And yet there are  no two beauties alike, just like no two dreams are the same.And even if it’s the same sort of dream, it wasn’t manufactured in the same place , doesn’t have the same meaning.

And oh , it is stunning. It is so breathtakingly beautiful, absolutely glorious. For these seeds , these dreams, that wind so lovingly plants for us , grow into the most lush vegetation you can imagine. 

You might rightfully ask- why? 

Why does this complicated procedure take place? Why go to so much trouble for a mere dream? Why does it matter so much whether your dream is fulfilled or not?

And although these questions are complex (even more than you think) there is an answer. 

Your dreams are a product of you. They are a product of your thoughts and feelings, of the situation you are in. They are kept so meticulously so that you’ll have a souvenir. A memento of who you were , regardless of what you’ve changed into .

They are planted to save one small , pure , beautiful part of you.

Just in case you forget.