Dreams
What’s Your Worth?
One Saturday afternoon nap flew me into this bizarre dream.
My father, a hero
picked me up
from the land
I was lost in.
He drove a
new tricycle
that could
almost fly.
We zoomed
by trenches,
zinged through
angry trees,
zigzagged down
rough roads
by a scintillating
lake that almost
lured us into
an untimely
end.
I wondered why
it was just the
two of us.
He said not to
worry as he would
pick up my sister
half way.
Confused; my
sister was
safe and happy
back home.
I missed her.
He missed her, too.
But the trip
must go on,
a trip towards
a destination
that was only
meant for me.
We arrived in
a provincial town,
foreign to me.
He said I must
wait patiently
for his
return as he
was on his way
to pick up
my sister.
I trusted him,
of course.
But I wondered
where the trip
would end though.
Where exactly?
And where was I?
He said he
struggled really
hard to get there.
There were
impossible obstacles
along the way.
Natural disasters,
creepy woods,
broken roads.
Until he found
his place and
made it his own.
For the first time,
he rose to
prominence
without doing
anything heroic
at all.
Just his
heart and soul.
So I lingered
around there
to wait.
I spotted shacks
of shops nearby,
ancient houses
made of bamboos;
in one of them a box
of 80s television was
on, with a hazy
reception.
Some local men
sauntered by,
unbothered,
dressed in 80s
fashion.
I got hungry.
I had three
food items
stuffed in a
weird basket.
In one translucent
box was a croissant;
painted on it was
a face of an
unknown woman.
In the other was
something that
was not edible.
I could not eat it
or I would die.
Then I had
fried meat;
it was a bird
inside a turtle shell,
and it was supposed
to be good, and I
wondered how it
got there since I
could never eat
meat at all.
So I waited
and waited
—
A local bus
turned up
in a blink of
an eye,
transporting
school kids.
They were
jolly and hyped up
to get home.
Though I noticed
the boys
swooped out
from inside
and the girls
were riding
on the
vehicle’s exterior,
yet they still
managed to
get home
unharmed
unscratched,
relieved and happy.
I was about to
scold the driver
but something
in me went numb.
Then I succumbed
to hunger.
A group of sweet delicacy
merchants
occupied the
Main Street.
I had not even
a cent on me
until my father
arrived.
So I wandered
around to
check it all out;
one busy lady
caught my eye.
She would simply
swing by to grab
anything she liked
and the merchants
would just shrug
it off and say,
“Okay.”
I thought to myself,
“How is that okay?”
I waited and waited
some more.
Until reality
brought me back.
From wherever I was.
From losing my father again.
From a treacherous trip.
From the strangest town
I had ever been to.
Somewhere, someday,
I will understand it.
But what if I won’t?
Well, as my guide says,
“All humans are going
to die not knowing their
worth.”
Now, how I wish
my father did.
I wish he did.