The Dreamseller_ The Calling - Augusto Cury [86]
We knew it was a kind of blackmail, especially since the dreamseller had always listened to us and supported us. Still, he followed us without saying another word.
When we were about to enter the VIP room, he asked apprehensively, “Who set up the event?”
“Some people who really care about you. Wait and see,” we said, without offering anything further.
The Megasoft executives were in a separate room, preparing the event. We found ourselves in a green room with a lavish buffet of fruits, cold cuts and juices. But the dreamseller didn’t eat anything. He seemed to turn inward to reflect. The rest of ate ravenously.
Barnabas stuffed a handful of seedless grapes in his mouth and muttered almost incomprehensibly, “These guys are the best!”
Bartholomew, with three slices of salami and two of ham in his mouth, babbled, “I’m starting to like those businessmen,” then immediately started humming to cover up what he’d said. We tried in vain to shush them.
The dreamseller sensed something in the air. He fidgeted and looked to the sides, uneasy, as if wishing he could go off alone and meditate. A long twenty minutes passed. When the time for the conference finally arrived, three glamorously dressed young women led us to the stage. The dreamseller trudged unusually slowly down the corridors. He seemed out of sorts.
Before directing us to our seats, the organizers of the event, wearing perfectly tailored suits, came to greet us. They greeted the dreamseller last.
They were five executives and the last one appeared to be the leader, maybe the CEO of one of the firms in the group. He shook the dreamseller’s hand and, in a joking tone, said, “Welcome to the stadium. And thank you for your delirious ideas. Great men have great dreams.”
The dreamseller, who was always in a good mood, usually never cared if someone called his dreams a delirium. But he just aimed a penetrating stare deep into the executive’s eyes. The man was immediately flustered.
Until that moment, the dreamseller might have believed we would be attending a show.
The organizers took their seats to the right of the stage, and we sat on the left.
High on the stage was a huge screen, twenty-six feet tall and fifty-five feet wide. Other screens were scattered around the stadium. The master of ceremonies for the event appeared onstage, wearing a dark suit. He didn’t mention the names of the executives or the sponsor. He did everything simply, as he should. In a resonant voice, he began to introduce the dreamseller. The immense crowd fell silent.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is our great pleasure to present to you the most complex and innovative person to appear in our society in recent decades. A man with no marketing team, money or credit cards, and without revealing his origin or academic background, has spread his sensitivity and altruism throughout society. He has achieved a prestige that many have not. He has achieved a fame that is the envy of celebrities. He is truly a social phenomenon!”
At that moment, echoing his words, the crowd interrupted the presentation to applaud the dreamseller. We looked at the dreamseller and could see he wasn’t happy. He, who always felt at ease wherever he was, who had a superb ability to adapt to the most diverse settings, seemed uncomfortable with the praise. But there was no denying that he was a social phenomenon. We followed him because he was an exceptional person. The master of ceremonies continued:
“Children and adults alike follow him. Icons of society and the common man listen to him. This man leaves political liberals speechless and conservatives amazed. For months we’ve been intrigued. The media, the authorities and even the man on the street asks: Where did he come from? What were the most important chapters in his story? Why does he seek to rock the pillars of society? What is his objective? We don’t know. He calls himself only a seller of dreams, a merchant of ideas in a society