my dreams are tangible beings, standing in front of me, shifting silently from one leg to the other, the awkward dance of the impatient. nobody says anything. apparently they're all waiting on me.

it's disturbing. you wouldn't think it would be. i wouldn't anyway. having your dreams so close they could reach out and touch you at any moment.
but it is.
staring at them like children, or friends, or who the hell knows what. beautiful and real, wanting to make me smile. to make me happy. my little ones, trying to grow up before my eyes.

all they need is me-my time, my attention, my unrelenting devotion.
it's a hell of a thing to know that you can't feed them all.
how do you make that choice? to feed one and watch the other starve. to spread what you have around so that all live but none too much. not wanting to play favorites, even though there are obvious favorites. everyone has favorites. i know, that even as close as they are, i can't make it work. i can't build them all to independence, not all at the same time. i don't think i was expecting them all at the same time.

i've known of my finiteness since the age of 12 when broken bones showed me that unaided flight was beyond me, but i'm just now realizing that my finiteness is a bit too much so to be able to adequately feed all of my dreams. some will have to starve, to wait on the side for their time. i imagine one or two won't make it. they'll leave me. or they'll starve to death in utter devotion.

it was easier when i could see them as imaginary. some far off ideas that i read in a book. lose yourself in it for a time and then come out of that world into your own. they come with you in some way, vaguely, abstractly, nothing more.

but now they're here, still here. so close. so real. staring at me with love and desire. i can feel their breathing sighs. i realize i'm holding my breath. i shift legs. scratch my left eyebrow.

it's a hell of a thing. knowing you can't feed them all.