A Head Full of Dreams

Do you ever have dreams so good that you wish for them to come true? Dreams which are so surreal that you forget about your pain and grief. A place where you are happy, with loved ones present, especially the ones you lost, maybe upon a hillside or by a lake in a cottage, or in a forest where birds chirped and sang for you.
Do you ever dream so much that you often confuse it with reality? Dreams that are so vivid that they make you question your reality, make you question events which may or may not have happened when you are not even sure it did happen, but you want to believe that it did. Does it break your heart a little when you realise it was just a dream and it did not happen?
Do you ever sit in your room, by the window and look at the sky, at the moon and stars and think about the dreams you have had? Maybe a sweet song plays in the background and you close your eyes and lose yourself to the mild pleasures of little escapades from reality. Immersing yourself in the little joys that your minds allow you. And you feel yourself warping through time, taking cues from memories and with a little help from your imagination, creating a world where you are happy, and you are at peace, even if it is for a short moment — a moment which shall pass but is, nonetheless, an everlasting feeling.
Well, I do. Dreams have been a very personal experience for me and I cannot imagine myself without them. I dream every time I sleep. I dream when I am awake. I cherish the little joys that I am capable of perceiving, or else just how dull would life be is, beyond comprehension. I escape to a world which is mine, where I can be anything I want, where I am free from the shackles of reality, from its limitations and burden. My dreams are so vivid that I often confuse them with what is real. And it is okay. Maybe because what I dream is reality and this reality is nothing but a continuous dream.