Harlem Langston HughesWhat happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over— like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode? I read this poem before I had determined to go to college and I returned to it often during the months that led up to my decision. What happens to a dream deferred? When I first read this I had no answer because I could not tell you what my dream was for my life. I had lost my ability to dream. I was so stuck in my daily life that I had no vision for my future. And I felt as though I would do all of these things--dry up, fester, run, stink, crust over, sag, explode. Above all else, explode.