remembering Joy

Last night I had a dream. In the dream I was visited by Joy. She sat across a table from me, as if we were casually meeting together for a conversation over coffee.
I don't remember speaking, nor do I recall her saying anything. I just remember looking at her sitting there.
I can still see her in my head, and I hope I never forget the expression on her face.

It is the expression I want to remember when I think of her. A content one; A happy one; as if the life that lay ahead of her was not going to be a disappointment. As if the things she hoped for may become reality.

I rather like to think of her that way now.

Remembering Joy is a lot like holding on to hope. One of us always seems to be dangling from the seventeenth floor, but which of us it is, is anyones guess.

Hope shouldn't be such a hard thing to hang onto. I suppose it somes down to perspective. Yet, even with the perspective of eagles, it's easy to have the flightiness of pigeons, sometimes.

There are two pictures in my head now. In one of them, I see a person, maybe myself, reaching up to grasp the hand of someone else. They are holding me up.
Below me looms such a large drop that I will surely die. Yet it is imposible to hang on forever. That makes me in need of the person holding me up. I need them to pull me up to where they are.

The other picture is the one I woke up with. The one that has remained in my head all day, and will guide me back into sleep tonight.

I found hope in finding purpose. Purpose is really what motivates each of us to pursue anything.

I hope she has found purpose. I like to think she has. Because put into perspective, even dreams begin to make sense.