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I, the Dreamer



Dream is the best thing left to a bereft man if someone so dear to him is too far, just to bring that someone dear near. It is where the horizons of thought and reality converge to bring a temporary delusion; making things feel so real at a moment, just enough to comfort the lonely soul and severe depression to find out the illusion the moment it is over. It is either the dream is the feeling of missing the events of the past by repeating it in virtuality or a creative dream that fantasizes the achievements of a seemingly impossible goal. In any case, it creates an easement to someone who misses his dearly beloved. However, the tangible is better or the best, nothing like the 'concrete' wrapped in his arms. But then again, in moment of being asundered in tangibility, dreaming is the only thing left to make it real. Why then does he dream? Firstly, he misses the object by making it the subject in his dream and secondly, it is the soul's language to speak off its goals. The dream is the goal, and to keep a goal is to strive to attain it. The dream is the puller of men towards its fulfillment. Dream is the 'attractor'. It lures men to find ways to its attainment. Yet for the unspirited, they can just shove it away as delusion. But for the dreamer induced with passion, will, determination, perseverance, the dream is his chase towards the beautiful life. The life worth living by taking the endeavour by following it and the life worth dying once the dream is achieved. As every breath is labored to make the vision a mission and the mission to action; it is what is making men live and that is to follow their dreams. Lofty dreams are to those who shed no will to act upon them, but are motivations to those who stood up to the challenge. The dream is set, but the road yet to be uncovered. We all know or believed that there is gold in the East, yet we have to make a map out of it by venturing to uncertainty between us and the goal. However, the future is but a misty sea, we could only set to believe that there is land, hoping that there is really one while sailing towards the unknown. The dream is the future we longed for, an event we want to be tangible in the present-being that we will soon be encoutering or we could but only hope. Nonetheless, we thrive to make it certain, make it feel that what we believed for will come true. Real enough to be felt by the skin and real enough to be held. Though the sea be misty, we could only believe that there is land ahead.

I have laid unto myself a goal that I believed in. I believed that she could be what I am looking for and I strive to be at her pedestal.  To share a life here and beyond for all of eternity. I am in my conquest for paradise and that I believed she is my Eden. Gladly, I am now at the moment of endeavour. Thriving to win her heart  as if winning God's favor. Beseeching the heavens for blessings and the strength to endure the pace and the voyage that I had set myself upon. I have yet to uncover the path, to draw yet a map that leads from where I stand to where her heart lies. A Columbus yet to find the New World. It is the secret in her heart that I would strive to unravel, the secret that seems to be not, to be trivial, it is what they call love. But beyond that word alone, I want that secret to reveal unto me as the betrothed that no words could ever encapsulate the magnaminity of the experience. For I have already made thee my betrothed and there is no greater happiness for me that I am to be yours also.

Dream. Dream. Dream. I have been the dreamer, and still I am the dreamer. I could only hope that I would die in peace and believing that in my grave and as soon as your time comes to pass, that you'll lie beside me smiling and passed  happily that I too was your dream.

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