I Have A Dream

by | JBE, Volume 1

  • Be extremely present.
  • Set inspiring music.
  • Set a positive intention. (“This is what I want to experience.”)
    • We will yet achieve magnificent things as humanity.
    • We will overcome our struggles.
  • To relax, you may try to:
    • Listen to the music beforehand.
    • Meditate or do breathwork.
    • Observe nature.

Throughout my days on Earth, I have gone by myriad names. I seasonally got wind of epithets such as a rootless strider, a hammer lacking a head, a trampled idealist, and in most instances a hopeless dreamer. And yet:

One cannot bring a fantasist back to ground by such utterings. Words for him are like indistinct silhouettes above a sea. Seagulls that disappear into morning fog. They erode like statues of stone and abate like the men who built them. A dreamer’s hope can only succumb at the dawn of a more brilliant, precious one.

I share a commonality with a royal jester. In practice, we are both regarded as fools. We both rollick and cavort with words. We joke around until not a single soul cherishes us at the table:

“Do not share that drink!” we utter. But the court raises a cup of poisoned wine. Our words go ignored, for the king, the queen, and the whole chessboard think the fool’s warnings are gormless, poisoned, a part of a scene.

See, a dreamer’s vision may not transmogrify the entire realm. It does not need to. A dreamer is relentlessly scrutinizing one question, “Where do I plant a tiny unpretentious seed?” A dreamer breathes. Breaks the mold. Judgment means nothing for him in this impermanent reality. While the real fools’ attention is occupied with pouring wine, the omitted dreamer knows a seed begets a tree. When the fruits ripen, the tree will have outlived the bitterness of the court’s toast.

In fact, a dreamer is mightier than any chess piece in the game. One might think he would be better suited as a king – but a dreamer does not fit into a single piece. His role in life does not bind to rules. It cannot abide them. His whole life he battles to break them. Rules constrain his vision. He would rather die than yield to the game.

Thereupon in hopes of planting a seed, and not moving a chessboard, I share with you a vision so memorably perfect beyond denial. I pass you the torch, for the flame cannot be carried by a single heart. Carry this seedling with me! Protect its precious soil until tomorrow. Because it is inexplicably bound to all Earthlings:

To my fellow humans,

To animals, whom I count as our equals,

To plants, who outpour amity since the birth of time,

To age-old rocks, who deserve a seat beside us,

along with vast oceans, at the table of brotherhood.

When I close my eyes, the vision of tomorrow grows stronger like the fragrance of a rose. It makes my heart sing. Under my closed eyes I imagine a wind rustle in a pine grove. I vigorously attempt to describe today’s life, but the wind has blown it away from memory. The notion of waking up in the twenty first century has faded. A new day is embraced on planet Earth. A bond of love has scorched our past deeds. Humanity has risen above.

The music is onto something. Do you notice?

When I envision the skies, they are turbulent in their appearance but remain clear of skirmish. The majestic, foamy clouds forever remind me of the heaven people have created on Earth. The notion of gods has lost its use. Humans have become the new. Everyone is seen to be a loving fragment of life in everyone else’s field of view. Nobody is attached to their name. Names are symbolic references without substance. Strangers are gone.

The environmental change is sustained, although millions have not lived to see the day. The flora and fauna have returned to their natural equilibriums. Animals have every right to ridicule the people of yesterday. Yet they deliberately refuse to play this card: The unfortunate devils who trod the orchards of Earth yesterday did not know any better. Wherever their footsteps fell, the soil withered beneath. But melancholic sorrow and shaming is gone. Life inveterately carries on. For the first time in history, humanity has acknowledged life on Earth as equally capable of loving. Delicate, tiny leaves growing in the farthest corners of the world are treasured and loved like a human child.

Earth is outflowing with happiness. There is so much joy that ice-cream trucks are giving it away for free in cups. I envision it, and my neck tingles. I see Harambe running down a meadow. There are blossomed daisies woven into the gorilla’s hair. The sun shines upon us, as we greet ourselves like old friends over a sweet cup of ice-cream.

Do not be mistaken, this is real. This is what Earth is in your heart.

Civilization has surmounted their trouble. Heroes have arisen among Chinese people. It is read in tomorrow’s newspapers how acts of humanism defeated a tormenting oppressor and how the People’s Republic finally became democratic. Strength is not gained through the art of war, nor by hurting others, nor by mastering the craft of deception; tomorrow it does not lie in veins and muscles. But in mutual trust. Good and bad have ceased to be, and our splintered hatred has perished. Men have laid down weapons. Even Israelis and Palestinians have hugged each other. It has taken tremendous effort and suffering, but a new fellowship is forged like a ring. It has finally united Earth under one banner. Maps once reliable are thrown into oblivion. Nations’ borders are erased. Countries have become new districts. For the first time, the globe stands free of protests.

Those wallowing in the mud of animosity are embraced with love. Schizophrenic people have found peace. The world has acknowledged the fluidity of consciousness – that life is a groundless teeter-totter. Prisoners are treated with more understanding for their tragic past. Ominous prisons are dark methods of the past. Love clogs up holes in their hearts, where four walls and solitude could not. All roads lead to enlightenment. All roads are enlightened.

In tomorrow’s society, nobody is left astray. No one is abandoned in the winter for the wolves. By the age of fifteen, every little human knows their life purpose. Their unique mission on Earth, if only to commune with their friends. The size of one’s deeds is measured by the size of their selflessness. Our doctors have discovered the healing power of Gaia. Our teachers have learned how to tame the ego like a wild horse before it roots deep and has time to hurt others. Our scientists are zealous to explore the infinite void of creation, where one’s willpower is worth a thousand possibilities. Life is acknowledged to be an endless, vast, shared dream. We have shaped a heaven in which our roots may grow. Here on Earth. We have authored our stories on the walls. We treat one another with awe until the tides of time wash us away. When it happens, we become infinite again. A part of the ocean.

Each year like a clock, humanity gathers to cheer astronauts coming home from Mars. All the planet’s squares are crowded with suspended voices, to whom an excited one speaks over the comms: Fear not, fellow beings, for we have lived a glorious existence together. Even if the ship blisters and we die, we will have died living our purpose at the frontiers of discovery. Ripe voyagers, many will say. We have held the Pocket Universe in our palms. Even if we die, we are already home.

But more than outer space, human heart is discovered. Civilization has awakened to its infinite love; the one true nature that binds us and that has put our enmity to rest. All equations are exhausted. Paradoxes are deemed to be consequences of anxious assumptions. Tomorrow, logic no longer make sense. Existence precedes why, for questions are contained within being. This knowledge heals more diseases than any medicine in the history.

Such is the reality on the shores of tomorrow.

Is it not worth protecting such a seed?

Is it not worth dying and being reborn for like a phoenix?

My fellow Earthlings, the path has never been easy. Do not share the drink of doubt, for ours is a journey that spans generations. The ocean of hatred will be crossed… The moorings of the day-after reached. You need only endure. Protect the seed of tomorrow, I cry out. Protect it inside your stomach. Water it with a dreamer’s enthusiasm. Your belly will seem a little warmer, the wars of today a little tamer, and the dawn not so far away.