The dreams all started when I was a child -- of Cowboys and horses and a West that was wild.  Growing ever more vivid with each turning page -- I could feel the horse pounding, I could smell the sweet sage. A Cowboy was what I decided I'd be -- I'd live on the range, punch some cows, and be free. I'd have nothing to do with the big city stuff -- for I wanted a life out of doors, rough and tough. Dreams seem so real   when you're young and you trust -- they have to come true 'cause you'll die if they bust.  But before I could stop it my lasso and boots -- and dreams of the prairie had all become moot. Things the world deemed important stepped in the way -- I would not be a cowboy, I would not see that day. You see life has a way of changing your map--and before you can see it you're caught in a trap. Bills, and status, and doing "what's right"--have taken your dreams in what seems just one night. The thing I have learned that will never be lost--is that dreams left unlived carry too big a cost. Should've and would've and could've I dread -- for they signal to me dreams about to be dead. I have also learned that reviving a dream -- is not the impossible task it may seem. For this week I am living  with greatness of joy -- my dreams of cowboying I had as a boy.         -- Peter Baty, northern California