Most often we poison our dream over time through neglect,

            Our youthful naïveté is certain our dream can just push through the poisons of our                        environment and endure the pain.

             We tell the dream it’ll just be a moment, the other side will be worth the struggle.

             But the moment never ends. By the time we realize the dream dead, it’s too late, all                         that’s there is just dust and bones.

             We look at the forgotten dead thing with curiosity, knowing it was once the most                             important thing in our life, but now we forget just why. The part of us that should be                     concerned by this is empty, so we keep going on.

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Maybe it’s better to softly break up with the dream.

            Let the dream know you really did truly love it,

            But that the dream will be better with someone else who can give it the attention you                    can’t.

            And you turn and walk the other way, resisting the urge to look back.

            You think you might have made a mistake, but you can never go back.

 

Do you smother it with a pillow?

            It takes strength to hold the dream down, smother your dream's face directly while it                    sleeps.

            It thrashes around struggling for the life it will give anything to keep, But then it’s over.                Something so alive is now cold and still.

            You bury the dream as deep as you can, and when investigators ask, you claim

            another dream as an alibi. It wasn’t your dream, it was never your dream.

            Sometimes you even convince yourself it was the dream’s own fault because you can                    never honestly think about what you did...or you’ll break.

 

Do you take it out back,

            whispering softly in its ear about your love for it,

            but despite the good times, it’s too broken and in too much pain to continue on.

            And then, sobbing, you shoot your dream in the back of the head. Burying the dream                    under its favorite tree.

            You will have new dreams, but you will never recover from this loss.

 

Or do you hire someone else to do the dirty work?

             You call that person a boss,

             Or your kids or your church or your spouse,

             And let them kill the dream for you, cowardly pretending you wished things were                           different?

             You didn’t pull the trigger, but the dream knew it was you.

 

Perhaps you don’t want it to die at all, you honestly tried!

               But you lived dual lives, burnt out on the dream, becoming bitter from exhaustion,                         blaming it for your stress.

               Like frustrated spouses you and the dream are unable to find the love you once had.

               Whether you and the dream stay together or split, there’s no love left, just echoes of                       memories you try to forget.

               An unhappy marriage where you serially cheat on the dream with  banality.

 

Maybe you try to stay loyal to the dream,

              You hide it in the attic with your childhood things,

              Occasionally dusting it off each Christmas and thinking of it fondly,

              No one understands when you try to explain its relevance, so you carefully package it                    back up where it is safe and protected, unused in the dark. A private secret.

              It gathers dust and becomes an irrelevant antique.

 

And do you dream of the dream you let die?