Stir

You wake me up in the middle of the night and give me a dream to follow.

I once used to chase dreams like a little boy chases butterflies – with joy in his eyes, jumping over the rocks in his path with ease – until my innocence was stolen and the world became ugly.

The dream you show me stirs me up. I don’t know if now’s any different, but I will take it. Chase it against the setting sun and the puffy clouds and alpine forests. As long as it will keep me alive. This dream.