The Dreamseller_ The Calling - Augusto Cury [98]
We hugged each other warmly. I had learned to love my fellow man in a way not found in textbooks. Despite our uncertain futures, we looked at one another and said, “Oh, how I love this life!”
The other members of the group joined in the embrace. We might have been saying good-bye forever.
Before taking his last step off the stage, the dreamseller turned and saw us. Our eyes met, slowly and intensely. The image filled our hearts with joy. Immediately, our dream was reborn.
We ran across the stage and followed him, knowing that unpredictable adventures lay ahead of us—as well as unexpected storms. We left the stadium, joyfully singing our anthem.
I’m just a wanderer
Who lost the fear of getting lost
I’m certain of my own imperfection
You may say I’m crazy
You may mock my ideas
It doesn’t matter!
What matters is I’m a wanderer
Who sells dreams to passersby
I’ve no compass or appointment book
I have nothing, yet I have everything
I’m just a wanderer
In search of myself.
THE END
(of the first volume)
Acknowledgments
I have met countless sellers of dreams along the way. Through their intelligence and their generous acts they inspired me, taught me and made me see my own smallness. They paused in their journey on the paths of existence to think about others and give of themselves while asking nothing in return. They made of their dreams lifetime projects, and not desires that shatter in the heat of the tempest.
I dedicate this book to my dear Geraldo Pereira, the son of the great editor José Olympio. It has not been long since Geraldo closed his eyes forever. He was a poet of existence, a fine seller of dreams in the universe of literature, as well as in the theater of society. He was my friend and counselor. I offer him the most grateful homage.
I dedicate this book to my esteemed friend and reader Maria de Lourdes Abadia, ex-governor of Brasília. She sold many dreams in the Brazilian capital, of which I cite, especially her dreams for the underprivileged who live in and from the city’s garbage. She gave back to them something fundamental to mental health: dignity.
To my esteemed friend Guilherme Hannud, an entrepreneur endowed with a noble sensitivity and a thirst for helping others. Through his social projects, he gave employment opportunities to hundreds of former offenders so they would have the strength to extricate themselves from the morass of rejection and achieve, despite the scars of the past, the inalienable status of human beings.
To my dear friend Henrique Prata and the excellent team of doctors of Pio XII Hospital, among whom I cite especially Dr. Silas and Dr. Paulo Prata (in memoriam) and my friend Dr. Edmundo Mauad. As compulsive sellers of dreams, this team transformed the small Barretos Cancer Hospital into one of the largest and best in the Americas by offering free treatment of the highest level to poor patients who would never have been able to pay for it. They proved that dreams prolong life and alleviate pain.
To my dear reader Marina Silva, who in childhood was punished by the vicissitudes of existence, but whose dreams of changing the world fed her courage and intellect and made her a senator and later an extraordinary minister of environment. Marina passionately yearns to preserve nature for future generations. Through her, I would like to dedicate this work to all the scientists of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change who tirelessly battle to illuminate the mind of political leaders so they will take urgent measures to ameliorate the disaster of the greenhouse effect. Unfortunately, many of those leaders lie down in the bed of egocentrism and resist “buying” dreams.
To the beloved Catholic friends and leaders, of whom I cite as representatives the priests Jonas Abibe, Oscar Clemente and Salvador Renna. In them, love of one’s fellow man and tolerance ceased to be theory and entered the pages of reality. With surpassing love, they have sown dreams of a society suffused with brotherhood and altruism. To the beloved Protestant