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.