“How can you believe in your dream?” you ask me.
“Stop being so foolish!” you admonish me.
“You must be more realistic if you wish to make your way in this world.” you warn me.
“It is foolish and childish to believe in that which you cannot touch, you cannot see, you cannot hear, you cannot smell, and that which may never come pass! What madness would cause you to give way to such fantasy, as a dream that may never be requitted?” you try to explain to me.
Though I know you care, your words are falling on deaf ears, and this frustrates you.
“How can you believe in a dream?!” you ask, the frustration beginning to show.
“How can you not?” I retort. "For what is there to believe in other than a dream?"
What faith does it take to look down at your hands and claim you believe in what is there?
Oh, you believe in only that which can be held?
Oh, you believe in only that which can be shared with others?
Oh, you believe in only that which can be verified by your senses?
You claim that you can believe in all of this, and with your self-aggrandizing sense of moral superiority have claimed yourself as being "realistic," and me "unrealistic."
How ironic it is for you to make such a claim with such a limited sense of reality and with complete ignorance of the fact that by your own admission, you believe in nothing at all.
It requires no faith to believe in that which tangible.
However it does require a great abundance of ignorance to believe that which is tangible to be the complete makeup of reality. What you lack in faith, you make up for in ignorance.
What a burden it must be for you to carry the weight of such ignorance for all your days! Now I understand why you react to change the way you do, for you had no part in creating it.
You may think me mad for believing in that which I cannot see, cannot touch, cannot taste, cannot hear, and cannot smell. But I weep for you for believing in nothing at all.
You poor creature. You value that which is in your hand, because you believe it to be real and solid. Do you not see it changing? In 100 years it will be dust, much like you and I, and yet your senses which you rely upon so greatly prevent you from seeing this.
How difficult life must be for you. I cannot even begin to imagine the suffering you must endure. It is no wonder you are so sad when you lose it. It is no wonder you try to so desperately to cling to it and to control it.
You may be living in your home, but here you are in a foreign land, a stranger to this world, a world in which you played no part and had no hand in creating. I do not fault you for your outbursts when events do not go as you had planned. I too would be fearful if I lived my entire life feeling as if I was a stranger in a foreign land.
But have you ever asked yourself, ‘how can events ever go as you had planned?’ For by your own admission, reality is limited to that which can be held, touched, seen, heard, and smelled. Did you not say that believers like me must be more “realistic” if we are ever to make our way in this world? And so tell me, what does your plan smell like? For you cannot have it both ways.
You value that which is in your hand because it is your reality.
I value that which is in my heart, regardless of what is or is not in my hand, because that is what creates reality.
It must be difficult for you to understand the plight you face in the world. And to maintain such wild flights of fantasy and ignorances in the face of such overwhelming proof as to their falsity requires a resolve unlike anything even a dreamer must believe.
But what a waste of belief it is to maintain your belief in nothing at all.
You may call me a dreamer, but I take that as a compliment from the likes of someone has made themselves a fool.