That speech by Dr. King. It's a cliche, but it's a cliche for a reason. Dr. King was a visionary. He was inspirational. Maybe I'm a little bit jealous.
Most of my life, when I've talked to other people about my ideas, when I've shared with people my dreams, they nod politely as if I was showing them my buboes, and then suggest I seek mental help. I listen to them. I'm not some sort of sane man in an insane society. I don't believe I have all the answers.
And as a result, dreamers scare me a little bit. Because my dreams are mad. But I don't think that people reject them because the dreams are mad. Some of them aren't even mad, not really. I think they reject them because _I'm_ mad, and because, even worse, I know it.
I sometimes wish that this world wasn't a world of dreamers. I sometimes wish that people listened to the functionaries instead of the visionaries. I wish you could change the world not by telling people what you wanted, but by telling people how we could get there.
I wish we were not haunted by nightmares as we are.
