Confessions of a Dreamer
I confess to dreaming, 'pe'llucid day and night dream mares. A dream mare, or dreamare, is a beautiful torture, a realistic goal that's unreachable. Theoretically practical experience is virtually hands on, having sort of done this, done that and so on, it should work. I might be able to do this? I confess to being caught up in emotion. The allure of feeling is great, I am often lost in the potential of an idea, the dream of a 'could be' or a 'maybe' is mare-ishly innocent and optimistic. The Realism is truth, it, what ever it may be, can be accomplished; the likely hood is often not accomplishable, though not 100% impossible. This is the fault of a dreamer, an incomplete vision with just the wrong amount of correct information. This is especially true in the young automotive crowd. However, some of us never grow out of it, and this is without consequence: On one hand you have a person so full of blind motivation that through random and somewhat guided events can do great things with either gathered experience, momentum or both. The other is that of the common definition of a dreamer, one who just wishes things to be true, but these rarely are becoming. In the odd and unorganized social pyramid of the automotive industry, most of which is a ghost of perception, is to be placed near the bottom of any triangle, the unsuccessful dreamer fires up bright, rises and fades to the bottom. Passion is the flaw of the dreamer, it's blinding and misguided, and is very synonymous with youth. As I age, a dreamer myself I find my passion having less of a fade overlap, and have begun to come sharp and unwantingly crisp. Attempts at experience have been great in mixed success, as well as number of attempts. Self taught lessons often have no defined learning curves, nor do they define why to learn of what, when and because. Passion and misguided ideal has potential in it self, which is doubled edged. The potential to skip past the informalities of life and sometimes those of the social structure and protocol in a positive manner, but also potential to do it negatively. I've danced with both, and as of recent, it's been very negative. I dream and dream, and scheme and scheme, but to be honest, all I want or care to do is drive, a sight and goal lost along the way. It's strange the things, the situations and the unreliably good and bad things created by dreaming. Dreams are obscure morals, inspiration caught in the mind and burned into a the back of the eyes. Always obscuring the vision of all other things, these dreams and goals mutate over time as new idea burn and crease over them, eventually the sight of all other things is nearly gone. The cure? To place the object of desire into the singed crater of the creators ocular lenses. The speed at which you do so is important, as these hot cut images can change quickly and a partial piece entered in only ensures the dream lasts longer partially filled than never being filled at all.