Dreams are what you make them.

I lay in my bed. Hoping to have a dream. Something different, than what I've been seeing in my sleep. My sleep is not filled with any ideal dreams. Nor filled with any of my own terrors. Just...myself. No landscape. No ground. Not even a room. I just drift. Not in any certain direction. I just know I'm moving. But I ask myself. "Where?". As I feel myself drifting to and fro, in this void of a dream. I said, "Stop". And I did. But soon after that, I descended. But no ground to land on. Nothing at all.  

I then wake and get ready for the day ahead. Throughout the day I wonder, what does this empty space in my sleep mean. I'm stuck in this conundrum throughout the day. As well as the night.

It went on like this for weeks.

Until one day things changed. I won't say what they were. But they were some major changes in my life.
           
            The night things changed, my dream started out the same. The blank, white void. I'm drifting. And I just decided to tell myself, "Stop". And I stopped. I felt myself descend. But I felt ground beneath my feet this time. I looked at my feet to see a stable ground. That's when I realized, to make things happen you can't just hope something goes your way. You have to make it happen. I then took this void of a dream and made it my canvas. I made the things, that I wanted. Whether they're real or not. They were my ideals and aspirations. Now alive in my world. No one can tell me otherwise. This is my art. There may be critics out there. But that doesn't mean it's not mine. It doesn't mean it's meaningless.

Dreams are what you make them.