Every morning I wake up in my tiffany blue room and look at the clock remembering to subtract six minutes because my clock is always six minutes fast.  I get up and do my routines not forgetting one thing.  I always ask myself 'what makes me do this?'  Does my brain make me do this? or is this my heart?  Questions flood into my brain left and right like the shore coming up and going back down.  I think contently every morning trying to answer my question.  Something special happened, I answered my question.  My dreams are the fuel to my life.  Without my dreams I would have nothing to look forward to.  When something bad happens my dreams always say hey and remind me to keep working for my dreams.  The funny thing to think about is, is what my dreams actually are.  Being raised in a family that has taught me that I can do anything I, instinctively, dream very large.  Sometimes I think why do I even dream so big if I know I'm only going to let myself down if I mess one single thing up.  Somehow I wake up every morning and do it again and again and haven't managed to mess that up.  My dream dangles right before my eyes taunting me to grab them but I can never quite reach them.  My dream to be a very successful pediatrician and mother has never let me down.  "Here we are all, by day, by night we  are hurled by dreams each one into a several world," Robert Herrick quotes.