Dreams Have Lost Some Grandeur Coming True

The road not taken, the choice we didn't choose, always seems perfect. Adam

points out to me that it's perfect because it didn't have a chance to be played out, to touch air, to be tarnished. A table never eaten at has no winespills, no creases in the tablecloth, no crumbs. Yoni points out to me that that unborn, unrealized untarnished event exists perfectly in the conceptual world, the world of ideas.
At conception, Benino was all grandeur, delight, a clean,and perfect dream. The menu was limitless, an infinite and sumptuous feast. Where is Benino now? The dream waits somewhere, hiding from the bang of nails into wood, the daily hagglings over this permit and that one, the dilemmas and the delays. Reality, when its birthing time arrives, will be more tasty, more filling, than all the perfect dreams in the world.
I love the world of ideas, that uncreased place where everything is possible.
But the physical world is where we live.
Dreams will lose some grandeur coming true, and the physical will never ever be exactly the way the dreamplan blueprint promised.
But reality is tastier.
And quenches the thirst.