The Pursuit of Dreams
A day and a half ago, i was so close to being able to relive and recreate many, many more of these moments; which i have always recognized as happiness. My application to QUT University, Brisbane to pursue a Masters of Creative Writing went through and guess what? i am accepted. Hello, dream! After a long talk with dad on the phone, i got my green light, some support, and a blessing. But something did not feel right, and it was my beating heart.
As a firm believer of dreams, i dare proudly declare myself a pursuer. Recognizing them is difficult, but having identified what i REALLY want, i never let them out of sight anymore. It is those things that i don’t want that much after all but too afraid or greedy to lose that are constantly clouding the view of my real destination.
Having fought so many obstacles to achieve what i truly want and finally getting them one after another, why would i tell you or myself otherwise?
However, half a day ago i learned something new in pursuit of dreams. Sometimes we look at dreams as something so beautiful, sacred, and honorable because without it, life breaks down to a flat ground, cease to colorless, and becomes directionless. If a car needs fuel to move, i think a person needs a dream to move forward in life. As celebrated as all that sounds, each battle we participate in achieving our dreams can sometimes be a selfish act. We might even hurt the people who love us along the way without realizing it. Have we ever thought about that?
In my case, doing my (particular) masters would sum up to an amount of un-returnable ROI (return of investment). To spend a quarter of a million to get closer to my dream job, a lecturer in creative writing, is something i cannot afford to do. i must admit that i feel sad because what i’m asking for is studies; which should be an honorable thing to do, yes?, but my whole country does not offer such a course, and art itself; be it theater, painting, sculpture, or writing, is not appreciated here as much as it should be. Just look at our museum(s). Think they look great? Okay, name me a local author which book you read.
Truth is, i can only spill out one name myself.
Admitting that, i pulled the plug and left myself to mourn over the death of a dream i’ve subconsciously nurtured for so long.
If i were to describe my life fictionally right now, it is like sitting on a sturdy swing planted right in the middle of a wide, empty, green grass field. Can you picture that? The season is spring, to be exact, and the wind is warm, steady and strong, so strong i need not do anything to push the swing; the wind moves it for me. So i swing up and down, sometimes even slightly to the left and right. i am moving, not static, but yet i am still where i am – at the same spot.
While taking advantage of the beautiful scenery, i realized how alone i was. i never liked to think of myself as a ‘special child’ because everyone is born different, but deep inside i know the truth – i am an outcast in disguise living in a society full of norms. Hello, Disney! In my solitude, i became friends with the many questions my brain posted, keeping me occupied in searching for answers instead of fresh new dreams.
Someone asked me if i was happy. i always like that question. It simply means that it matters to someone if you are not happy. So i sat my unsettled heart down and faced it without coffee.
“Look. Are you happy?”
“i’m neither happy nor sad. i am an organ. Only you know how i make you feel”, she said.
“Should i jump off that swing?” i asked.
“i would even leap, but i think Mind would tell you otherwise”, was her answer.
In my mind, i walked away. But my body, is still on that swing, in the middle of a wide, empty, green grass field, rooted deep inside my mind.
“So, where do we go now?”