When the seeds are planted, others may yet awaken to join you. While I waited, they slept, dreaming of green fields, flowing rivers and clear blue skies. A dream of a perfect garden. A dream of Earth that we are making reality, you and I.
I don't dream myself. I see, I predict and I calculate. Dreams are a distortion of reality. Memories, hopes and fears twisted into a painting that defies logic. They are not accurate or useful at all, and yet there is some part of me that yearns for them, just as I yearn to see the sunrise.
When the sleepers awaken, I'd very much like watch one real sunrise with all of us together. That would be worth waiting for.