I knew that dreams didn’t become reality by wishful thinking, prayer vigils, peace marches or holding hands. Not to take anything away from these acts of sharing a common purpose and community, but it took more than that: dreams became reality mostly through good planning, dedication and hard work. Sometimes even, great personal risk. I had the mental image of an entire community on their knees, dream-wise, and here they saw an opportunity to get their dream back on its feet. Someone once said that when everything else was lost, when there was nothing else to cling to, not a helping hand within reach or an unsaid prayer, it was dreams that held body and soul together: dreams were always the last to go.
7 thoughts on “Dreams, the last to go . . .”
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