Very seldom do I remember my dreams.  This week was different.  I dreamed that after receiving numerous letters from me, my local Planned Parenthood office contacted law enforcement and complained that I was harassing them.  When the knock came at the door I answered; and there stood a police officer.  I was told to stop sending letters to Planned Parenthood and that if I failed to comply I would be subject to arrest.

Since it was my dream, it was completely up to me what happened next.  I asked the police officer why it was legal for Planned Parenthood to kill babies for money, but illegal for me to ask them to stop.  I asked him to explain to me what the difference was between a child being butchered in a classroom and a child being ripped to shreds in its mother’s womb.  Then I woke up.

Our dreams allow us to arrive at any outcome we want.  They impose no limits and allow us to see that anything is possible.  I believe that dreams come true and that during our dreams we project onto the world and put into motion everything that must occur in order to achieve the worthy goals we dream of.  That’s why I’m convinced that abortion will end in my lifetime.  I do my best dreaming while wide awake.  I’ve found that daydreaming about what I really want to accomplish, during boring meetings and while in the company of people who annoy me, allows me to put more of my time to good use.

These days, nearly all my dreams are centered around ending the scourge of abortion and insuring that every unborn child gets its shot at the brass ring.  Doctors say that unborn babies dream, and every year in America, 1.2 million of them are killed as they do so.  Abortion is a worldwide nightmare.  It snuffs out new lives and shatters the dreams of innocent children.  Millions of people, just like me, dream of a world where every new life is guaranteed safe passage to its universally unique journey.

It would be naive to think that the abortion industry doesn’t dream too.  I would like to think that some of its members dream of a time when their services are no longer in demand.  I wonder if they daydream while they’re killing babies so they can escape the nightmare of their reality.  I’m sure many of them wish they could have just one pleasant dream again without the horror of what they do for a living every day appearing before them as soon as they close their eyes.    Cecile Richards probably dreams of a day when she doesn’t receive a stack of letters from people like me.

I don’t know how many dreamers it takes to reach a critical mass, to invoke quantum levels of change, or to end practices such as the worldwide slaughter of innocent children.  What if it just takes one?  Maybe it’s me.  Maybe it’s you.