Once in a rare while, we go to this little place in our souls.
Where we see a hamper of worn and outsized dreams from the past, where we taste our current dreams before they evaporate and melt in our hands like ice cream, where we search our pockets for future dreams we have yet to name.
When we realize that these – our dreams past, present and future – are what makes us who we are – a switch lights up, igniting our souls with a live current both delicate and dangerous.
That is probably the stuff of electric dreams.
And there is where we will all, always, see each other. For weren’t we/ aren’t we/ won’t we all be part of someone’s past, future and current dream?