Dreams

No one ever says they want to be the homeless guy begging for change and digging through garbage cans for a half-eaten meal.

Nobody gets reincarnated as a janitor or a retail sales associate.

There isn’t anyone reinventing themselves as a fry cook or grocery stocker.

What dreams get formed in the gray matter are desires of the heart. The gut checks them, critical of the fancy.

What dreams come true? The ones that the gut says are attainable, or the big leaps that take real balls to complete?

A question for the ages.