dare to jump

Image

 

 

I climbed a ladder into the sky and above the highest clouds, because a wise man once said that, “dreams don’t turn to dust.” But when I reached this haven in the clouds I found no dreamers. I found only those who were stowing away lofty treasures in their comfortable, easy houses, with very little rejection or disappointment and no willingness to be vulnerable. In my time up there I found no true dreamers. So I climbed back down.

 

But as I descended down the ladder, I heard a violent, bone chilling scream. I looked up to see a young man falling from the clouds above me. He plunged toward me, growing larger and larger, past every rung of the ladder, growing smaller and smaller, until he vanished from my sight.

 

As quickly as I could, I scaled down the ladder and found the man covered in mud, lying flat on his back. I ran over to help him, but before I could, he was already on his hands and knees, crawling through the mud and slime. Slugs, leeches, cuts, covered his body. Sweat and blood dripped from his face. His fingernails – oozing dark brown matter, his breath heavy, but he was alive, abundantly alive.

 

   “Are you okay”? I asked. “Can I help you?”

 

“I’m alright”, he responded.

 

  I asked him how he fell from the clouds.

 

“I didn’t fall”, he said. “I jumped.”

 

  I asked myself why a person would do such a crazy thing.

 

As if reading my thoughts, the man said, “I want to be a dreamer.” He kept crawling.

 

I was fixated upon the man’s muddy, soiled profile, and asked him why he would want to become a dreamer.

 

“Because”, he said, fingernails scratching at the dirt, “In the clouds, my dreams lasted until the sun went down, until the odds formed against me. Once that happened, I couldn’t bring myself to keep going. My dream was dying, so I let it die. And with it, I died. And that’s when I realized, dreamers don’t live with their head in the clouds, they live with their hands in the dirt. Dreams aren’t made in the clouds. Dreams are born in the mud and the slime. Dreamers crawl. Dreamers bleed and sweat, they trudge through mud and uncomfortable terrain to bring life to the visions that are plummeting within their minds, their hearts.”

 

With that I dropped to my knees, and started to crawl, dreaming beside him.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s