When dreaming was free…

When I was young, dreaming was free.

I did not dream to becoming a doctor because I hated syringe. The needle was dreadful.

I never dreamed of becoming a lawyer because I did not know what a lawyer was then. I still hate the strictness of a lawyer as owner of law.

I never dreamed of becoming a farmer and own vast lands and numbers of cattle. What a folly, I was eh! I hated the bite of the sun on my skin, my brownish-black skin that never dreamed of becoming white, huh.

I had one other dream. I wanted to become a Veterinary Doctor. At least, the needle was for the animals, I thought. But the desire outgrew when I saw in television a veterinarian putting his arm inside the cow and when the arm is out, I saw the dung over it. I squirmed, eww. I will never be that doctor. Never.

I never realized that he used gloves at that time. Silly me.

The one remaining dream-to become a priest-was a comfortable one. I could have cars, a comfortable house and I could collect money every time I said mass. People will call me Padre.

I clung with this dream amidst the anxiety I read from my mother’s magazine to where I stared the black and white pictures of children-skinny, bony, bighead, hungry and starving children of Africa rotten with AIDS.

Plus the torture of my peers saying that priests will be castrated. See priest has no wife. That was I know at that time. Some priests have wives, don’t they?

I know the dream was burning.

Of course, like any other vain, uneasy teens, I also dreamed of having a good love life. I contented myself reading precious heart’s pocketbooks. Novels by Nicholas Sparks, and also watching romantic movies still based on Nicholas Sparks’. What’s the difference eh?

Of course, my life and dream were never complete if I did not listen to radio dramas that also nurtured my dream. I like the stories of Kulafu and Roco ang tawong bato and etc. These drama and stories kept my dream burning like wild fires.

While clinging with my dream, I become a seminarian.

One cannot go forward without looking back at the past, as many would say, may these be happy ones or sad ones. Pasts are always parts of the continuum of what we call life cycles, or, lifelines.

Life is a circular basis because we have abilities, tendencies to go back where we were, at least in our memories. It’s like picking up the truths, meanings, of our once life experiences.

Life is also linear. No one could ever turn the time around. We always end up counting the days, weeks, months and years-forget the hour- of our past lives, at least for now.

Going back to the intended tale that I planned to put it here. The dream, or is it prodding?

Do I dream of putting the cloak of holiness to become holier than the other? Or, do I dream of putting the cloak because I was conditioned by the dream of my family to become holier than the other family?

I could remember the beginning of it all, now.

It all began when dreaming was still free, at least for us very young then who could reenact all that the mind could grasp, grappled and conceived, freely without pretensions and inhibitions.

ZzZzZz, I’m taking a nap (sigh)….Flop!


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