I have a dream

They are always there. The words. The eternal, immortal words. They ring down the generations. Be they in the heart or the mind, on the lips or on the paper, spoken aloud or kept hidden, they are always there. There is no question of their being nonexistent, for every soul aspires to fly high, every gaze scans the summit, every heart longs to attain something. They are the life force of every being. They are tinted in many colours, draped in various shades, but every version beats to the same tune. In its essence lie the same words: “I have a dream.”

Dreams come in all shapes and sizes. They can be lifelong, withstanding the test of time, or can flash by in an instant, dashed on the sharp rocks of reality. Some are cherished close to the self, others are trumpeted to the world at large. However, dreamers are of only two types; those who are content to merely dream their dreams, and those who aim to live their dreams, and do not rest until they make their dreams real. One faction says, “I have a dream. I live for my dream. It is the brightest star on my horizon. I am content to sit at my window and gaze at it, gaze until it rises to consume me, but I will not take a single step towards it. If my dream becomes real, I will no longer have anything to live for. My North Star will be extinguished. No longer will the long days be tinted with a rosy hue, no longer will I have visions of a better future to light my dark days. My dream will flash up like a spark to light my life for a passing moment, then it will curl into ashes and blow away. Finished. Gone. Irretrievable. Its golden memories will mock me for the rest of my bleak existence. It is better to live for my dream, than to live it and become an empty shell.”

The other group of dreamers live by these words of Rudyard Kipling,
“If you can dream, and not make dreams your master,
If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same.”

These people strive to live their dream. They say, “I have a dream. It is the driving force of my life. To live and breathe my dream is the height of ecstasy. I ask nothing more of life, for living my dream is my life. It is the core of my existence: without it, I am incomplete. It defines me, shapes me, gives me focus. It is my guiding light. I follow it, spread it, brighten it, pool it, give it shape and let it flow through my being. It is my identity. I am my dream.”

To some people, this ideology may seem an extreme one. Take into account all the people who have dedicated their lives to their dreams. Be it a painter, writer, singer, politician, sportsman or social worker, each devotes himself to his dream. They do not chase fame; fame chases them, for it is the fulfillment of their dream, not the earning of fame, which is their goal. Not every dream attracts fame, though. Think of those who aspire to be a good parent or sibling, a good teacher or mentor. They do not desire fame. They are content to live their dream. May it lack lustre, charm, or appeal, whatever the dream, it belongs to the dreamer, and he cares not what others think of him or his dream. Then he can truly say, “I have a dream.”