I used to keep my dreams in a mason jar and I would always make sure the lid was screwed tight. I kept that jar on the bedside, so as soon as I had a dream, I used to chase after it and catch it inside the jar before it escaped or disappeared.
Inside that jar, were all kinds of dreams; wild ones, happy ones, sad ones, dreams full of hopes of future, dreams that were haunting of a past, dreams full of people who love me, dreams full of people who didn’t, dreams of the things I had been and mostly dreams of the things I wanted to be. So, inside that jar, my dreams were safe. They didn’t irk the judgmental eyes, they didn’t have to fight to survive, they couldn’t disappear with the wind and nobody could steal them. Inside that jar, they were only mine… no matter how small or absurd or big they were, they were safe and sacred to me.
But, my dreams were like fireflies. They would burn and always shine. They would call out for me and agitate and begged to escape. Inside that jar, though they were safe but, they couldn’t survive. So, one day I opened the jar and let them fly away.
Now, I don’t chase after and try to catch my dreams. I let them fly away and find their own way. Some turn into thin air and disappear forever, some transform to birds that perch at my windows, some reside in my shadows, some are wild with no home, some have found home in others and some have turned to potter’s clay, waiting… for me to shape them to reality.