Catalina's Milky Way Dreams(c) Re- Written 2024 - By The Depressed Poet, Doc Dalton
Shooting Stars and fast moving CarsRumble through the roads of my mindTick-e-ty Tock, the old sounds of the clockSay's it's almost a quarter past nine
The moons surely rising, the stars are a glidingAnd Mr. Sandman is ready to roamHurry off to bed and put your pillow under your headHe might just be visiting you tonight at homeDrifting off to sleep is such a wonderful featAdventures you'll enjoy on your ownMaking new friends on a journey to no endA secrete life that is yours all aloneDon't be afraid of those gobble lee goo'sOr those pirates drifting to sea on their boatsThere's no need to worry there just in your dreamsLike rainbow clouds and cotton candy floatsOh that sky's full of colors of make believe wondersExciting every step of the wayCan't you let me stay for just a little bit longerPlease, don't take my Dreams a wayTo see this through a child's eyesOn the path to where stars brightly beamThrough a different world of twist and twirlsWon't you come to my Milky Way DreamsWe could have so much funUnder an ice cream sun and laugh our time awaySing some M & M songs the whole day longUntil we awake to brand new day
Pluto say's hey kiddo don't get out of bedAs Snakel Puss laughs and says, ah it's OKKKKKKKKPopeye yell's, were gone in a minute after I eat me spinachPoo say's all aboard my Banana Split SleighOh that Sky's full of colors of make believe wondersExciting every step of the wayCan't you let me stay for just a little bit longerWorry not Catalina, we won't take your Dreams a way
To see this through a child's eyesOn the path to where stars brightly beamThrough a different world of twist and twirlsWon't you come to my Milky Way Dreams
Catalina say's, please come join me, on my Milky Way Dreams
There once was a man named Thomas who lived in a small, quiet house at the edge of town. The most important thing in his house wasn't the bed, or the kitchen, or even the old chair he loved to sit in.
It was a window. This wasn't an ordinary window. Thomas believed this window held his whole life together. Each morning, when he woke up, the window was clear. Calm. Open just enough to let the breeze of the day drift in. On those mornings, Thomas felt steady. He could think. He could breathe. He could handle whatever came his way. But as the day went on, things would begin to press against the window. A bill in the mail. A harsh word from someone he loved. A memory he didn't ask for. A quiet fear that whispered, "You're not okay." Each one left a mark.
At first, they were just smudges. Then fingerprints. Then cracks. Thomas tried to ignore them. He told himself, "I'm fine. I can handle this." So, he kept going. But the window… it could only hold so much. Some days, the pressure built slowly. Other days, it came all at once-like a storm crashing against the glass. And then… it would happen. The window would shatter. Not a small crack. Not a chip. A full collapse. Glass everywhere. Noise in his head. Feelings too big to name. Thoughts racing so fast he couldn't catch a single one. Thomas would fall to his knees, overwhelmed-not because he was weak, but because the window had been holding more than it was ever meant to. And in those moments, he believed something was wrong with him.
But one day, an old neighbor named Grace came by. She didn't try to fix the window right away. She didn't tell Thomas to "be stronger" or "get over it." She simply sat beside him in the mess. After a while, she said gently, "Thomas… this window isn't meant to hold everything. It's meant to open." He looked at her confused" Open?" he asked. "Yes," she said. "To let things out before they pile up. To let air in. To give you space."
So together, they began something new. When a worry came, Thomas didn't press it against the glass, he spoke it out loud. When sadness showed up, he let himself feel it instead of trapping it inside. When the pressure built, he stepped outside, even if just for a moment, and breathed. And slowly… something changed. The window didn't shatter as often. It still got dirty. It still creaked. Some days it still felt like too much. But it didn't have to break for him to feel relief.
Thomas learned that his window-his "window of tolerance"-was never about being strong enough to hold everything in. It was about learning when to open it…when to rest… when to ask for help…and when to let the storm pass through instead of trying to stop it. And over time, he realized something important: The breaking didn't mean he was broken. It just meant…his window had been carrying too much for too long.
It was a window. This wasn't an ordinary window. Thomas believed this window held his whole life together. Each morning, when he woke up, the window was clear. Calm. Open just enough to let the breeze of the day drift in. On those mornings, Thomas felt steady. He could think. He could breathe. He could handle whatever came his way. But as the day went on, things would begin to press against the window. A bill in the mail. A harsh word from someone he loved. A memory he didn't ask for. A quiet fear that whispered, "You're not okay." Each one left a mark.
At first, they were just smudges. Then fingerprints. Then cracks. Thomas tried to ignore them. He told himself, "I'm fine. I can handle this." So, he kept going. But the window… it could only hold so much. Some days, the pressure built slowly. Other days, it came all at once-like a storm crashing against the glass. And then… it would happen. The window would shatter. Not a small crack. Not a chip. A full collapse. Glass everywhere. Noise in his head. Feelings too big to name. Thoughts racing so fast he couldn't catch a single one. Thomas would fall to his knees, overwhelmed-not because he was weak, but because the window had been holding more than it was ever meant to. And in those moments, he believed something was wrong with him.
But one day, an old neighbor named Grace came by. She didn't try to fix the window right away. She didn't tell Thomas to "be stronger" or "get over it." She simply sat beside him in the mess. After a while, she said gently, "Thomas… this window isn't meant to hold everything. It's meant to open." He looked at her confused" Open?" he asked. "Yes," she said. "To let things out before they pile up. To let air in. To give you space."
So together, they began something new. When a worry came, Thomas didn't press it against the glass, he spoke it out loud. When sadness showed up, he let himself feel it instead of trapping it inside. When the pressure built, he stepped outside, even if just for a moment, and breathed. And slowly… something changed. The window didn't shatter as often. It still got dirty. It still creaked. Some days it still felt like too much. But it didn't have to break for him to feel relief.
Thomas learned that his window-his "window of tolerance"-was never about being strong enough to hold everything in. It was about learning when to open it…when to rest… when to ask for help…and when to let the storm pass through instead of trying to stop it. And over time, he realized something important: The breaking didn't mean he was broken. It just meant…his window had been carrying too much for too long.
