This dream was a beautiful dream. Full of colors, and lights. The sounds of running rivers and hushed whispers. It had magic inside it. It had music inside it. It had laughter and singing and every kind of wonderful thing. It was a beautiful dream.
The only thing the dream didn’t have, that it really wanted, was a purpose. You see, this dream wanted to be more than a dream. But it knew it wasn’t. It knew it would never be more than what it was. The beauty, and magic, and wonder that was inside of the dream didn’t matter to the dream, because it was only a dream. One day the little girl who was dreaming this dream woke up.
“Daddy, daddy, I had the most wonderful dream! I’m going to write a story about it”.
Once upon a time there was a writer.
Once upon a time there was a mom.
Once upon a time there was an employee.
Once upon a time there was a teenager.
Once upon a time there was a husband.
Once upon a time there was a reader.