they scratch at your door.
you see them through the peephole:
a stray dream looking for a home.
you think it might go away if you ignore it.
wrong.
it's still there when you open the door.
smiling.
wagging its tail.
i have dreams of being the 'old me'. now i realise i need to dream forward, not backwards.
i dream about the 'new me'. the improved version.
the happy me.
i know it's possible.
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