If you are a dreamer, come in.
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, a hoper, a prayer, a magic-bean-buyer.
If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire, for we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
Come in! Come in!
-- Shel Silverstein
I am a wisher. I wish on an assortment of items ranging from the first star of the evening to fallen eyelashes. I've blown my share birthday candles and dandelion seeds -- both with reckless abandon. I don't even worry about the extra years or the resulting yellow flowers.
I contemplate what I would do if a magic fish arrived at my house to grant me three wishes. Whether my wishes come from a flamboyant blond genie or a fish, I need to be prepared. I avoid wishing on monkeys' paws, though. That's just common sense. I do believe a touch a pragmatism to be helpful from time to time.
I believe in two kinds of magic: good and bad. The bad kind of magic compels me to jump over sidewalk cracks, avoid walking under ladders, or spilling salt. The good kind of magic turns caterpillars into butterflies or a seed into a flower faster than I can say bippity-boppity-boo!
I believe in luck. The kind of luck that sends me searching the meadows for a four-leaf clover. (Tearing the leaf of a three-leaf clover to make it look sort of like a four-leaf clover doesn't have the same results. True story.) Shiny pennies. Tootsie roll wrappers with stars. Fortune cookies.
And I dream. I unapologetically dream. Come join me.