Sonnet V

Dreamt I to-day the dream of yesternight,
Sleep ever feigning one evolving theme,--
Of my two lives which should I call the dream?
Which action vanity? which vision sight?
Some greater waking must pronounce aright,
If aught abideth of the things that seem,
And with both currents swell the flooded stream
Into an ocean infinite of light.
Even such a dream I dream, and know full well
My waking passeth like a midnight spell,
But know not if my dreaming breaketh through
Into the deeps of heaven and of hell.
I know but this of all I would I knew:
Truth is a dream, unless my dream is true.

- George Santayana (1863-1952)

~ I don't know about you, but my interpretation of this poem in Old English is that dreams can be true to life if you want them to. There's a fine line between what you imagine your life to be with all its bright colors and emitting lights and what you make into reality. You can't control everything, of course, but you can nudge it, shape it, encourage it to be what you want it to be. Make it real, keep it real.