Every single morning I realize that I've been dreaming myself into other cities through the night.  I'm a world traveler in my sleeping hours.

I meditate every day, and I pray every day.  Every day, I am grateful.  Every day, I say thank you.  

I've been forming travel plans based on prayers and daydreams and sleeping dreams that repeat themselves in themes and feelings.  I wake up every morning with the vivid dreams that won't let sunshine scatter them.

These dreams follow me through the day, singing and laughing and jumping and clapping and cheering.  Then there's the grand jam session of dreaming sleep, where the new ideas mix with the running plans and create a masterpiece of smoke and steam that is entirely unique to its moment in time.  Then I wake again, and like the previous day, dream-riff stowaways cling to my hair and play their songs around my ears throughout my wakeful hours.  Repeating and repeating, like catchy songs will, until their emulation and transformation into the next evening's dream.

All plans are like catchy riffs from the evening jam session of ideas and may or may not be used in the final composition.

Sister Elizabeth says, "If the dream escapes, don't worry.  If it is important, it will come back to you."

These dreams are serenading.  Determined to stick around this time. Winning my heart anew with every note that the play.