The Dreamer's Pen

I’ve always loved the moon and the stars. As a child, I remember being captivated by the quiet beauty of the night sky. I’d sit outside, feeling drawn to the stars, noticing how the moon illuminated the darkness in such a calm, reassuring way. That sense of wonder still stays with me. Even now, when I look up, I can’t help but be moved by how beautiful and still the night sky is. It’s like the world pauses for a moment, and for a while, everything feels more meaningful.

There’s something about the moon that’s deeply romantic to me – one of the most romantic things in the world, in fact. Not in the typical sense, but more in the way it exists—always there, consistent and quiet. It doesn’t demand attention, but its beauty feels like it’s speaking to me, something intimate and unspoken. It’s not just a light in the sky; it’s something that has always been there, and something that, for some reason, always feels personal. Even as an adult, I find myself marveling at it, the way it feels almost like a companion in the dark.

The stars, too. They’re the kind of beauty that doesn’t need to be explained. Each one seems to hold its own secret, its own mystery. And when I look at them, I can’t help but wonder, what stories do they hold? The universe is vast, and I am just a tiny piece of it. But for some reason, that’s comforting. It’s a reminder that everything is part of something bigger. In the stars, I find a quiet kind of peace.

It’s the vastness of the cosmos that moves me most. The idea that everything out there has been, and will be, long after I’m gone. And yet, it all connects. It feels humbling and beautiful at the same time. The moon and stars are more than just lights in the sky to me. They’re a reflection of something deeper. Something constant and real. Something that doesn’t change or vanish, no matter what happens down here.

I have this recurring dream where I’m climbing a spiral staircase in a medieval castle, carrying a lantern. I never reach the top. The climb seems endless, and the destination always just out of reach. But every time I pause, I look out the window and there it is—the moon. Always there, bright against the dark sky, casting light over the land. It feels familiar, like a symbol of something constant in my life. No matter how many steps I take, how many times I climb, the moon is always there. It’s the one thing I can count on, even if I never quite reach the top.

I think that’s part of the reason I’m drawn to the moon and the stars. They remind me of something steady, something reliable. They’re always there, even when I can’t see them. No matter what’s happening, no matter where I am, the moon will rise, and the stars will twinkle. They remind me that, sometimes, the most important things aren’t the ones that shout for attention. It’s the quiet things—the steady things—that have the most meaning.

If I had unlimited funds, I would build a planetarium in my house. It’s one of those things that feels like a natural extension of how I see the world. A space where the night sky could always be right there, above me. A room with a dome ceiling that could project galaxies, constellations, and all the things that make the cosmos so amazing. A place where I could always look up and feel that sense of awe and connection.

It wouldn’t just be a room full of projections, though. It would be a space where I could let my mind wander, where I could get lost in the beauty of the universe without the noise of everyday life. A place to sit quietly, think, dream, and just be. The moon and stars would be a part of that space—constant, calming, and always available. It would be a reminder that even in the middle of everything, there’s always something bigger than us. And sometimes, it’s that quiet, steady beauty that’s the most moving of all.

I love the cosmos. I love the moon. There’s something about the way they exist, the way they shine, that feels so far-reaching yet intimately close. When I look at the night sky, it’s like feeling the universe’s heartbeat—quiet, constant, and deeply beautiful. It’s a love that reaches beyond words, one that stirs something deep inside, a love that feels as though it has always been there and always will be.