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Tag Archives: dream



there once was a time

we know not when

‘but it’s past’ some say

‘will it pass again?’


some say ‘yes’

and some say ‘no’

but even if it were so

we’d never know


for if it passed before

and we missed it then

what chance is there

if it comes again?


then let us hope it never was

so then we still can dream


just because



Kids at kindergarten age or thereabouts are at an appropriate developmental stage. The world for them is an exciting place filled with new adventures at every turn. They explore every facet of the world around them with explosive abandon. We not only allow them to operate at this level, we actively celebrate it with them.
Childhood can be an interesting and even a delightful space – for the child as well as the watching adult. A child’s fantastic story can  fill us with wonder and amazement.

We marvel at the fluency of seemingly random unassociated associations as tales weave in and out of almost seamless fictitious wordscapes which often seem to have their origins in far away realms clearly never previously explored. The adventurous, primitive rendition of these fantasy worlds in artwork delights us as we watch them engaging with new and wonderful concepts. Stick drawings or the bold simple shapes of a landscape are received with joy and praised. We ask the child what they have drawn or painted (often because it can be somewhat indiscernible to us) and when they tell us we can be overwhelmed and we rejoice in their creation. We make them feel safe and adventurous in their creativity. It is not a difficult thing for us to do. We seem to instinctively know that it is good to let them explore creatively and without restraint. We even encourage them to continue and even to increase in their activities. Bold attempts are applauded, failures are down-played. Experimental abstract expressionism is received delightfully and we enter into the joy of the fertility of their imagination even when we cannot really make head or tail of what we are looking at for ourselves.

We delight in the fantastic stories they create. We are overjoyed with the interpretations they make and the stories they come up with. Even their grammar and pronunciation is enjoyed by almost all who hear even a jumbled rendition of something. Even a speech impediment sounds delightful, cute, even adorable to us. We go home and repeat the joy of our experience to our family members and peers and they too can easily enter into the deep richness of the event.

But then something happens.

Before we know it they stop.

Perhaps they are stopped?

… and soon, they become like us.

We seem to all but lose the ability to rejoice in dreams and be spontaneously creative. Perhaps something inside dies? Perhaps our thoughts become too tightly formed that we become perplexed by any dream or idea that strays even slightly from our norms, from our agreed upon patterns of the reality that we share?

We get very serious. We become sensible. We seem to lose the ability to rejoice in the creativity of others. Instead of opening up, we instead close down free thinking.

Yes, there is a difference between childlike and childish, but there’s also a difference between cleaning the baby and losing the baby down the bath drain pipe.
When did we get so restrictive? How did it happen? What did we do, or not do, that freed us up to be so imprisoned?
In the biblical narrative it is said that unless we become as little children we will not be able to enter into the kingdom of God.

What will it take to get back?

Can we afford not to pay the price, even if it costs us our very lives?

I wish the wishes would swish and sway
to wash afresh and not away
a rock in the sky is a sight to behold
but a rock needs to fly if the story be told
we can evolve into whatever we choose
or we can devolve into that which we lose
we can climb to the heights of the highest peak
or sink to the depths through the holes as we leak
to dream is a thing, the playground of kings
but the bump when we wake, is the sting of the thing
to bring it all down requires the wisest of tools
the pick and the spade are the choice of all fools
the float of the rock brings heaven to earth
the rock needs to fly for the dream to give birth

– Lloyd, April 2010

It is story time in kindergarten.  The teacher tells the class to gather round, get their blankets and pillows and make themselves comfortable.

“Close your eyes,”  the teacher tells them …. “I want you to see something,” .

The teacher begins to paint a picture of words and one by one the children drift off into a vibrant land of thoughts, colours and adventure.  And soon the children cross over from one expert storyteller into the hands of the greatest storyteller of all.