I hold most of my dreams within the confines of my heart. There, they beat with a steady rhythm; they pump my blood with a powerful perseverance, a constant force at the core of my body. But every so often these dreams go wild, grabbing my ribs and shaking them like a jail door, threatening to break loose. Then my heart starts beating in some irregular pattern and before I know it my dreams have seeped into my veins, occupied every corner of my body, gained full control of my entire being.
I will confess to you a secret -- at times like these, times when my dreams grow disproportionate with reality, I become afraid, terribly, terribly, afraid. And I begin to fear that if my dreams don't come true, they will leave me through a fountain of tears and there will be nothing left to pump my heart. Nothing left to circulate my blood, nothing left to keep the color in the my cheeks, nothing left to put the skip in my step, nothing left...of me.
