I dream.

Of being on the New York Times bestseller list.
Of having memes of my quotes, fangirls (boys?) of me.
Of being happy.
Of being sexy.
Of finding Him.
Of being beautiful, in love.
Of chocolate cake.
Of opening a bakery. (I can't bake, this won't happen.)
Of marrying a baker.
Of bakery-scented deodorants. (Yes, I like bakeries.)
Of comfortable stilettos.
Of long, beautiful hair.
Of a beautiful house, and an even more beautiful home.
Of a world with no mosquitoes, cockroaches, rats, lizards or hate. (The rest, I can live with.)
Of flawless skin.
Of tasty health-food. (Again, not happening any time soon.)
Of a world of love.
Of a world I love.

I dream of writing something beautiful, something original, something so deep, so profound, that everyone can see its truth, everyone can feel it; that no one has words to express their awe, that everyone will remember always, and quote, and dwell on, and revel in. I dream of writing something that is mine.

~Sam

Though these days of course, I pretty much just dream of sleep.