The Dreamseller_ The Calling - Augusto Cury [16]
Strengthened by Challenges
AFTER TWENTY MINUTES DANCING AT THE BASE OF THE SAN Pablo Building, the dreamseller again asked for silence. The euphoric crowd eventually calmed down. To our surprise, he recited a poem aloud, as if he were on a mountain top:
Many dance on the ground,
But not on the path to self-knowledge.
They are gods who do not recognize their limits.
How can they find themselves if they’ve never been lost?
How can they be human if they’ve never known their own humanity?
Who are you? Yes, tell me, who are you?
The people stared, wide-eyed. After their street fair, the emcee was now asking them whether they were human or divine. Several men in suits, particularly those who hadn’t danced and were ready to criticize, were stunned. Every day they were fixated on the exchange rate of the dollar, the stock market index, management techniques, fancy cars and luxurious hotels, but none had traveled the path to self-knowledge.
They led bored, empty lives, clouded in tranquilizers. They would not let themselves be human first. They were gods who died a little every day, gods who denied the internal conflicts that made them human.
Seeing the crowd fall silent, he continued:
“Without thinking in depth about life, they will forever live superficially. They will never perceive that existence is like the sunlight that comes with the dawn and will inevitably disappear with the sunset.” Some applauded without understanding or realizing that their nightfall was fast approaching.
Moments later, to my surprise, he went around greeting people, asking, “Who are you? What’s your great dream?”
Many were confused at first. They didn’t know how to answer who they were or what their great dream was. Some, more uninhibited and open, said, “I don’t have any dreams. My life is shit.” Others said, “I’m swamped with debt. How can I dream?” and still others stated, “My work is an endless source of stress. My whole body aches. All I ever do is work.” I was impressed with the responses. I realized that the audience watching me on the ledge wasn’t that far removed from my own misery. The audience and actor were living the same play.
The dreamseller had no magical solutions for them. What he wanted was for them to rethink their lives. Seeing their desperation, he called out:
“Without dreams, whatever beast it is that chases us, whether in our minds or in society, will eventually catch us. The fundamental purpose of dreams isn’t success but to free us from conformity.”
An obese young woman, five-foot-ten and weighing nearly three hundred pounds, was moved by these words. She felt doomed to a life of rejection and unhappiness. She had been taking antidepressants for years. She was negative and overly self-critical. She always put herself down in the presence of other women. She approached the dreamseller and gathered the courage to open up in a voice that only some of us could hear.
“I’m so deeply sad and lonely. Can someone who’s unattractive be loved one day? Can someone who’s never even been asked out have a chance of finding true love?” She dreamed of being kissed, held, loved, admired, but you could see she had been ridiculed, rejected, called names. Her self-esteem, like mine, had been killed in childhood.
Bartholomew, reeking of alcohol, called out:
“Sexy! Beautiful! If you’re looking for your prince, you’ve found him. Wanna go out with me?” And he spread his arms. I had to hold him to keep him from falling over. She smiled, but the advances of a shameless drunk were not what she had in mind.
The dreamseller looked into her eyes. Moved, he answered:
“It is possible to find true love. But even with true love at your side, you can never be happy if you cannot learn to love yourself.” And he told her: “Still, to find true love, you must stop being a slave.”
“A slave to what?” she asked, surprised.
“To society’s standards for beauty,” he answered.
Some of those listening were encouraged by his words and commented that they dreamed about overcoming their shyness, loneliness, fears. Others yearned