The Dream That Wasn't.

The Dream That Wasn't


          We all dream of being something we are not. Some dream of being doctors, dancers, farmers, and the list goes on because the list of people who desire goes on. We all dream of something we want to be or do. But what if we didn't dream?
          At an early age, I realized I was not like anyone I knew. I was quite different. I didn't think, act, or behave like others. I didn't know what to do when people my age play acted in what they wanted to when they grew up.
         Of course, I was questioned about what I wanted to be. What did I dream about doing?
          I didn't know what I wanted to do because people advised me I wasn't good at anything.
          "Why aren't you as bright as your older sister?"
          "Why can't you be more like your older brother? He is stronger than you."
          "Your younger brother is more athletic than you."
          "Your younger sister is funnier than you."
          So, what could I do?
          I am sure I had a dream. I mean, everyone dreamt at night, didn't they? What were my dreams?
          As I grew older, I began to read. The more I read, the more I realized I liked to read. At first, I read whatever reading material we had in the house: dictionaries, the Encyclopedia Britannica before a specific author authored a book about it, the King James Version of the Bible, and every newspaper which entered the house. Living in the country in Iowa, once I reached a certain age, thirteen, I began working for neighboring farmers during the late Spring, Summer, and early Fall, doing whatever needed doing. I was big, strong, and didn't complain. The perfect hired hand.
          After the money started coming in, I bought books. When not working, I had no social life, so I had plenty of time to read my rapidly growing collection of books. At first, I had an eclectic taste in reading material. From Moby Dick to Canterbury Tales to Poe's "The System of Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether," one of my favorite short stories.
          Eventually, I found the Fantasy genre. I began with The Hobbit, There and Back Again, by J. R. R. Tolkien. After reading this remarkable story, I started reading Piers Anthony and the Xanth series and moved forward to more complex stories. The more I read, the more authors I became introduced to. By the time I went to college in 1982, I had over one thousand books in my collection.
          At my high school graduation party, several relatives asked me what I wanted to be, why I was going to college, and what my dream was.
          I didn't have an answer. After all those years of high school, after all those years of reading, and after all those years of working, I still didn't have a dream. Nothing. A complete blank. What was my dream?
         I still went to college. Instead of studying hard and working to get the education I deserved, I drank and partied. I lost three years of my life to alcohol and irresponsibility.
         Getting toward the end, one night, I lay in my bunk and slept fitfully on and off. What I remember dreaming about very clearly is how I wanted a purpose. I wanted to feel something so powerful that I would recognize it for what it was, whatever it was. I had that dream over and over that night.
         To this day, I cannot recall what that dream was about. I am unsure if it was a dream or just alcohol playing tricks with my mind. I will never know.
         I did, however, meet my wife the next day.

618 Words