a dream is ....

Last night a dream attached itself to me. I was half-aware that it wasn't my making and wondered where dreams come from. What causes them to visit us, entering into our semi-conscious minds? More awake than before, I thought about what Linda Pastan wrote in the poem I quoted yesterday:

We don't remember the dream,
but the dream remembers us.
It is there all day
as an animal is there
under the table,
as the stars are there
even in full sun.

{from: What We Want}

And then, this morning my internet radio station morphed from Haydn and Schumann to something completely different. Not just different from the classical repertoire, but different from from my dream thoughts -- an abrupt transition from metaphysics to cliché in one big jump.

A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

A dream is a wish your heart makes
When you're fast asleep
In dreams you lose your heartaches
Whatever you wish for, you keep
Have faith in your dreams and someday
Your rainbow will come smiling thru
No matter how your heart is grieving
If you keep on believing
the dream that you wish will come true.

{Song from Cindarella credited to "David/Hoffman/Livingston"}