a dreamer

by walterdoege

it seems to me that does exist someway at least two dreams, one that occurs to me when I sleep, the other that occurs when I am awaken and alert…I remember few dreams when sleeping, at morning I don’t notice a clear dream, as some dreams seems real rarely for me, usually images and sensations, but in a numb cloud, so, I don’t remember my night’s sleep dreams…the second dream I can name daydreams, reveries following a french idiom path…rêve is dream, and reveries is just daydreams…I feel somehow a dreamer of daydreams…these daydreams seems a continuum, as a lens in between me and the daily routine living…and most of my daydreams is my daily living…I like very much my work, I like very much to help people, I like very much to stay with people…I need to talk with people…I need to listen people voice…people way of living…people and the way people live…very often I feel me apart from people conviviality, but it is an illusion…when I stay with people I want to stay with them…and people help me a lot on enhancing my perception of the world, the life, of myslef identity…I am my relationship with people…and the nearer and dearer people is my family…writing and reading are sweet solitudes, and these solitudes take me a little apart from most of the people like in a show or supermarket tasks and shopping walks to make some duties, like supply of some needed things my house, buy some essential ones and so on…however, when I walk on the shopping just for fun or for searching a book or a music or another gift for someone, it is good…it is good stay with people…with the families, the children playing and speaking and crying sometimes…people voicing is a special kind of song for me…even when i go to my favourite restaurant, the noisy around is a kind of silence for me…and I can stay with myself and with the people…some talking, some rest, like a subtil music and sometimes I feel this insights and outsights as dreams, some dream like states of soul…the dream may be my will for be kind and make gently movements…and in this way the dream is as a lens in between me and the events…or as a shelter…or as a craft for stay perceptive for the life…I guess life is not a matter for thinking…as love is not a matter for thinking…and today, on my shopping walk in a rainny day I was listening the thunders of a tempest…suddenly a little child watch to me…and in an akward walk, crash on me…her mother and father were full of supermarket things…and she asked me about a book on a little library where we were near…looking for a big book about fairytales…she appointed with a finger and I said, ‘yes, fairy, fairy does exist, as the thunder we are listening and don’t be afraid, the fairies does exist’…’it’s all right’…she smiled and run for her mother and father…this little child is a fairy and this is not a dream