Dreams are crossing us every second creating an intricate pattern wherever we go—waiting for us to dance with them. Weaved so thin, that we miss them. It sways—its just wind, we think. No, they are our daily dreams—each wanting to get noticed first.
You’re a spider on the dream web. It’s home. The very essence of you attached to every corner of every thread.
Dreams so fine that we need the heart to see it everyday.