You know the Dream. It started long ago, you may not even be aware of when, and even if you don’t think about it for years, decades, it still haunts you sometimes. You still wish, a little bit, that you had taken that road (it led to another version of your life), the one that wasn’t paved (it led you on an adventure to another land), the one that twisted and turned and crossed perilous chasms (you had what you wanted at the end), the one that led to a Dream. A Dream that now is like an open wound, small (and almost almost forgotten), but it has festered for so long that you have simply accepted that it will never close, the small ache it engenders has become so familiar that you no longer notice it, and one day will you peek again to see that it has finally closed? (Though I believe the simple act of checking answers that it has not…a Dream scar is not like other wounds, if you remember that it ever existed then it still does) some are riddled with open invisible wounds, scores of Dreams unrealized, their every movement stinging with regret. Some only suffer one or two, perhaps they are more painful than the many, and perhaps not. Some, though few, and maybe actually none, I would not find it difficult to believe, suffer not at all. Dreams can, after all, be fulfilled.
The Red Queen's Garden 