Just a few seconds ago (NOTE: I wrote this last night in my roommate’s laptop!), my boyfriend and I are talking about our dreams. His is being a world class photographer. Mine’s a little bit obvious but not as big—to have a book published.
It started when he begun scanning his old photographs and want them printed. He even mentioned he want to remember how well he is as for his skills. I desired to uplift him (because we had arguments earlier because of me! Haha). So, I told him many things that popped in my brain for seconds. Like how his camera is his weapon. Like Katniss Everdeen with her bow and arrow. He has a skill for it and he will be best with it. He just needs to go on.
Then everything seems to point to me. How about my dream? How about what I want in life?
Like a movie, my memory went back… waaaaaaaaaay back in High School. The moment I can’t clearly remember . That specific moment when I finally dreamed to be a writer; I dreamed to publish a book. A novel, even. To be part of magazines I just scan and read. To finally write a lexis I can call my own—touching millions of people’s lives. I want to be immortal after I am long gone with pages and memories I shared through a book. I am all positive to conquer all my dreams like that Disney-ish type of person. After I graduated, I went to another path I never thought I would take—out of desperation at first maybe.
Now, I still see my dream. But not that near and not that huge anymore. I see it when I look back—hanging above the air, slowly drifting away from me. Shrinking and shrinking…
And the only way no to lose it… is to run after the almost invisible string attached to it.
It’s not too late, is it? If I run fast or if I tried the hardest I could pull it and eventually see it clear, happening. Another friend is talking to me. And she’s torn between her own dreams and someone else’s dream for her. I just told her the tale I see every day: Some people (some I know) have everything they have, everything their eyes can lay of but they don’t have the opportunity to dream. As if their lives where destined by their parents or whoever.
Well, one example is this celebrity. Just a disclaimer, I do not know her in any way and all what you are about to read are just a plain and surface opinions of me. Just a few moments ago, I went across the hall—to the room of my marketing friends and ate dinner with them. We even watched TV. That’s when her face flashed. She has everything. She’s so wealthy, she can practically do everything. But, no matter how she keeps her self-entertained with wealth you see her in the screen and wondered. Did she even dream when she was young? Did she even wished to be a teacher, or a nurse or a doctor—those ones we say in front of the whole class at kindergarten graduation? Or she stands and everybody knew that she will one day be part of their hotel as an heiress?
And What is life like without dreaming?
What is life if we all have everything we want, everything we need and there’s no room to dream for something else. No desire to make a difference. No movement. It’s no life at all, just existence.