Everytime a child says I don’t believe in fairies, there’s a a little fairy somewhere that falls down dead. Peter Pan.
When you stop believing in a dream, it happens the same thing. A fairy dies, a flower closes down, a star burns out, a smile fades away. That’s why you must keep on believing in your dreams, whatever happens, that’s why I keep on believing my dreams, no matter what.
I have many dreams, some are more realizable than others: likely I won’t end up on the stage of the Wembley stadium so that Robbie Williams could sing me a song, like, say… She’s the one, but there are other dreams that I feel here, close to me, so close that if I stretch out my hand I can almost graze them and tickle them.
And yet, there are days when even the more achievable dreams seem too far, wrapped in a thick cotton-like fog. Even though the dreams are made of intangible breaths, the best way to reconnect to them is getting active, doing something concrete.