My dream?  

It’s simple.  

So simple people laugh.  

They hear it and smile, like it’s a joke:  

"Don’t you want more?  

Don’t you want to chase dreams?  

Do something big?"  

But they don’t see.  

They don’t get it.  

This is my dream.  

My big, quiet, perfect dream:  

My bed.  

A stack of novels, thick as my arm.  

No alarms.  

Just... pages turning.  

Getting lost somewhere else.  

Then maybe eating something good.  

Simple.  

Then sleep.  

Peaceful sleep.  

And then...  

Do it all again.  

That’s it.  

That’s the whole dream.  

Not lazy.  

Not small.  

Just... peace.  

Finally.  

Just peace.