Life can be a dream

Life can be a dream, and if it is, I'd rather make it a big dream. Before the awakening, before the spring leaves bloom. I want to make sure that in the time of the dream, I left good seeds, which in the days of stupidity knew how to plant laughter. That in the days of drought he understood the temperamental aridity and in the cold days of the vulnerability of the seeds, that in the days of spring everything becomes more colorful and can be the sum of what they have managed to plant. Life can be a dream, and when I wake up I want to make sure that I have left the best I could plant in the cold of winter, the summer heat, the silence of autumn and the beauty of spring.

Life can be a dream, and if it is, I'd rather make it a big dream. Before realizing that time was just invisible hands, an imaginary clock that marked my presence or limited me in illusion. But before thinking this I inevitably carry the seeds in my pocket and the will of faith in the spirit of the timeless infinite and finite material. Seeds are the sentences of time and the consequences of dreaming.

Dreams tend to be good to their princes in an immense castle erected with dreams of other dreamers who live in dreams, who have not let the terror or the burden of the terrible and tragic nightmares crumble their dreams. Life can be a dream and when I wake up I want to make sure that I have dreamed enough to be and have planted the best of my dream.