dreaming

The writer dreams, always. One's livelihood depends upon it. I stopped writing because I stopped dreaming about the things I felt were write-worthy subjects. Poetry, I walked with, merely out of sloth.

I thought it appropriate to make a list of things I dream about. The Lord is doing a lot in me.

I dream of freedom around my guitar.
I dream of decorating my beautiful, completely paid for, house.
I dream of hosting dinner parties/luncheons/breakfasts joyfully and without stress.
I dream of touring the world with my band.
I dream of recording at Abbey Road studios.
I dream of being worthy of La Blogotheque videos.
I dream of the discernment to see into people's hearts.
I dream of the day I'll be able to recite entire books of the Bible.
I dream of being a revered musician on the world scale.
I dream of speaking into people's lives, knowing my words are straight from the Father.
I dream of knowing loopholes in the legal system to know how to best advocate for someone who really needs that advocate.
I dream of being able to say "it's water under the bridge" and "it's water off a duck's back" and mean it in my life.
I dream of the crowd that sits cross-legged on the floor and hangs on every word I say.
I dream of singing on a public train with my band before passengers-turned-captivated audience.
I dream of the day I am entrusted with a child who did not come into the world through me, and am deemed ready to love them and keep them.
I dream of being that lovely, wrinkly old woman with every bit of wisdom and love oozing out of her.
I dream of knowing.
I dream of the house I can invite everyone over to, and the gift of hospitality to complement it.
I dream of writing [good] short stories again.
I dream of looking beyond myself, and not being limited to the shortness of my capabilities.
I dream of a better, more loving, more giving, wiser, kinder, version of myself for the people in my life.
I dream of old wood and tan leather arm chairs to adorn my house.
I dream of cheaper lomography film.