It's Raining Outside

These dreams that I have, they never make any sense. Dreams at night when my head is on my bed. Dreams during the day, when my head is on my hand, waiting for class to end. Why do our minds want such grand things? Are we predisposed for greatness? Or is it an escape from our true realities: monotonous in nature, with some days with danger. Danger to some, not to the ones searching for this escape. Are these days a way to live out our dreams? When dreams are truly met, are they really. There is always something else our minds can dream up. Us as humans, so little in this speck of a world compared to the magnificent universe, dream to be so big. Dreams help us to think we are better that what we really are, but what's so bad about that? It's the dreamers that make it worthwhile.