Fragments of a Blue Dream

Dreams are never silent…

they come crashing in, or slip out before you notice.

loud. soft. wild. gone.

— But, always untamed.

Sometimes they whisper— gentle like night air slipping through an open window..

There is a stillness in them, where the soul lingers.

Other times, they roar—loud and restless, like a storm that refuses to be ignored..

And at times they spiral—wild and unpredictable, like finding yourself on a road that feels both strange and familiar.

And you follow anyway.

Not for the ending,

but for the rush of not knowing.

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Last night I dreamt in blue—

the kind of blue that feels like goodbye and forever all at once.

Like sky and ocean folded into each other,

they made their own strange kind of sense.

A dream caught somewhere between quiet and storm,

And how beautiful is that in-between space…

between memory and possibility,

between what we know and what we dare to imagine.

Artwork created by the author: born from the same space these thoughts came from.

Maybe, that is why we paint—

To catch fragments of the dream before they vanish,

To hold the storm long enough to see its hidden beauty.