Nighttime dreams, some say, are out of the control of our conscious mind. It is the rambling, rough and tumble way our brains try to make sense and reorganize.

Daydreams, however, are another thing all together. We do have control over them. We can shuffle ideas, conspire against the establishment; rearrange things to our liking with an ending that is good for us and usually happy.

We can focus on finding an answer, making a decision, conjuring up a positive situation, take revenge, play out a fantasy…the list goes on and on.

I find, as I grow older, my dreams have changed. I exert more control over them, they are less likely to be spontaneous and I place little faith in any of them ever coming true. I guess experience has a lot to do with my attitude. I suppose I have shoved aside the little girl inside. She got too used to living in the eye of the storm.

I need to let her out. I emerged from the closet as a complete adult. What happened to the child? The daydreamer? The playful, worry-free tomboy that was, at first, oblivious to her differentness. She quit dreaming, I fear. She shut down because her dreams were very unreal, very against the grain, very unlikely to ever come true. There was no hope chest, no thought of marriage and children, no status quo life like the rest of her peers planned. Dreams were created, milled around in her mind, and then disposed of because they were not attainable. She lived, as most of us do, accepting the rain.

I think back to Jesus' day. There were no options for women. What were the dreams of those that were different? What were their hopes for the future? Imagine the delight of the women that followed Jesus when He accepted them, allowed them to exist beyond the realm of the men they were related or married to.

I am taking delight, again, in dreaming. I am hooking my dreams up with fantasies for my future. Stretch your own dreams this week. Make them real. Maybe there really is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.