There is that thing, something you’d not give up in exchange for anything, something that you want so badly, so badly that you cannot contain the desire; you feel a constant urge to want to verbalize the desire yet you don’t. You don’t for the fear that someone will destroy all that you’ve built in your mind, so meticulously, brick by brick, stone by stone. You don’t for the fear of your desire being belittled and taken away somewhere beyond reach.
Every day, every other hour, you dream it. Your dream, your private cinema, is the closest and easiest way for you to see it. Some part of you believes you may never get there, you may never live it, but you don’t let go. You’re addicted to the dream, to the possibility. Like you sniff your fingers after a drop of perfume leaked on them, you don’t really like the smell, but you can’t stop sniffing; it’s probably to check if your finger still emanates it. You dream your dream to see if you still can, to see if it’s still the same, to see if you still feel the same way. It doesn’t matter that you haven’t taken a step closer in the world outside your head.
You know so certainly well that they are all going to shake their heads resenting. You try a couple of acquaintances, not the ones that matter for you fear that a rejection from the latter would stab it deeper. The thought, merely the thought makes you nervous. You are worried they might program your mind and mold its ideas differently. You’re scared the dream might evaporate before you realize and will never telecast itself for you another time. You, hence, hold it close. You protect it like it’s your secret chest kept away in a safe corner where nobody can peek, where nobody has a chance to disparage. And in the world beyond your head, you‘re still there, the same place, no progress, living a life you don’t enjoy, counting days one by one and getting through. Still there, smiling in the dreams, wishing for it to happen, knowing it never will.
Someday, a wave of courage hits you. What’s to lose? A dream, a thing? Can it go away while you hold it so tightly, so close? You decide to fight for it, that one thing you feel devoted to, that one thing that requires no effort to love, that one thing that makes you feel like you belong, that one thing you always wanted to be. That day, you decide to fight. You decide that you cannot not get there, so you decide to get there.
You walk over to one of them – the closest ones, your feet sweaty and slipping from the smooth surface of your flip-flops, your mind scuttling from thought to thought, your eyes confessing your apprehension. You talk about your thing, you talk about how it began, how much it means, words pour out flowing free into the afternoon air, filling the room with tufts of all that you desire. You show some supporting ideas, work, proof, some more. You look on anxiously. You do not want to see it, the expression of dissatisfaction and disapproval, the one you so surely know is looming. You leave it there, the work, the proof, the person and move around in restlessness. You walk away, not wanting to see that second that kills it all. The person looks up, calls for you. You walk back, sweaty footed, anxious eyed, mind still unable to settle at a thought, hands cold. You know what’s coming, from the serious face facing you. Wearing a changeless expression, in a tuneless, emotionless voice, the person says something. It so almost sounds like ‘You should do this’. With hope sprouting out for the first time ever in your mind and ascending an infinite peak at immeasurable speeds, you look up uttering nothing except for a loud, mannerless “WHAT”. You get a smile in return and the same words another time, this time clearly. You don’t know if you heard it right, you were never ready for this, you’re so thrilled, your mind is still in its ascend of hope not stopping knowing it has won, your head is feeling dazed, your mouth curves into a smile all by itself.
You dig your head into a pillow, your favorite one – the only one that deserves to hold memories of this moment, letting some overwhelmed saltiness escape your eyes and trickle into your mouth, you dig further to muffle any sound. Staying that way, you dream your dream, knowing for the first time that the end isn’t in your mind. Your dream, your thing lies far ahead, even outside the boundaries of your head. And someday, you will live there.