My middle child, now eleven years old, has always daydreamed. Looking in the rearview mirror in the car, I’d see her staring out the window. Her eyes would be fixed, but engaged and filled with emotion.

She literally didn’t have the words. She would schedule times in the day for dreaming and I could tell there was a whole world inside her head that I couldn’t see, and would never know. I’d encouraged her to try to write about her dreams, but she’d say she just didn’t know how to describe them.

But lately, the words have found their way out. The words have spilled out on the page guided by her pen – or thumbs on the iPod as the case may be. And I finally have a glimpse into her private universe.

This poem makes me so happy. I am overjoyed that I have the privilege to be this confident, expressive, imaginative, brilliant child’s mother. I hope you love it as much as I do.

My Dreams

My world

In my dreams

Where fantasy is reality

Where werewolves run free in the forests

And fairies are not two inches tall

And there evil sorceresses are waiting to be conquered

With light and dark magic

Dwarves, elves, kings, queens

My dreams, my world

Where I have honor and authority

Power

Magic

In my dreams I’m a sorceress

A werewolf

A mermaid

My dreams, my world

My dreams, my imagination

My dreams