I’m not a dreamer; I’m a realist.
A dreamer believes in a dream without end, while a realist watches the dream crumble before them.
Sometimes they destroyed it themselves.
I did this unintentionally by extending myself beyond my means, and now I shall reap what I have sown. 
Turn the pillow on the cool side, and don’t wake up until the nightmare becomes bliss filled daydream.
This new dream is better than the others; one out of a story book, so good it’ll stomp out the realist in me.
What is this dream?
A future where money, finances, aren’t a hindrance.  Everything is at my fingertips, and the words I want to say most flow past my lips in a catastrophic wave imprinting messages on the lives of my peers. 
However, the realist in me still lives, and like the short life of a morning glory the dream dies. Maybe one day the dream could be an oak tree with life lines abundant.


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