The Dream that Wasn't - Revision

         

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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 played and pretended to do 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 told 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?
          The older I grew, the more 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 that entered the house. Living in Iowa, once I reached thirteen, I began working for neighboring farmers during the late spring, summer, and early fall, doing whatever I needed to do. 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 wanted, I drank and partied. I became someone I wasn't. Whenever I went home, I reverted to the old me. I didn't like the old me. I wanted the fun and exciting me, so I would always make excuses to return to college and stay there as long as possible. When I returned to college, I would continue to party and drink again.
          I lost three years of my life to alcohol and irresponsibility.
         Toward the end of one semester, I lay in my bed after a hard night of drinking. What I remember very clearly is how I wanted a purpose. I wanted to feel something so powerful that I would recognize it for what it was: love and acceptance for who and what I really am.
          I know many do not believe in Him, but I do. I Prayed to God that night. Not so much as Prayed, but I talked with Him about my life and how I felt about it. I asked him to help me find my purpose and give me direction.
         The next day, I met my wife-to-be. We have been together for thirty-seven years.