They don't like a dreamer; they never want to sympathize with your plight--the ordeals your face with every single journey you make into the world of dreams, to fashion something so beautiful and beyond their comprehension. But you've never craved their indulgence or are you mesmerized by the applauds. You are making a difference of course; you've wowed the greatest, and put smiles on peoples faces, so when they try to gauge you by the things you have, you show them the one thing you have that money cannot buy--a pocket full of dreams.
They don't like a dreamer, but my heavenly father once told me that a man who's diligent in his work would stand before kings. So I dream dreams in the best possible way--someday soon, my words are going to inspire kings, and yes it's far fetched, that's why it's called a dream--they're surreal to the people that mitigate their potency--a group i so dread.
They don't like a dreamer. I see Joseph, in his coat of many colours smiling down on me. "You're an abomination to the simple," he says, in a very pleasing, but sarcastic tone. "A mockery to everything that proceeds you," and i smiled, knowing his story fully well--hated by his brothers; sold into slavery. But I am my own Reuben--every penny from such mischief would profit me, and me alone, i thought. I'm no stranger to the side talks; the scrutiny and criticism; the self doubt that once plagued me--I for long have been a dreamer. And a dreamer dream dreams...
Image source: 