Dream 07.08.16
05:01
In my dream, my mother and I materialized in an extravagant mall. We were in a store that glittered with polished mahogany walls, vermilion carpeting and pristine sconces. Through the crowd of shoppers raving over the clothes that hung on golden racks, she asked a nearby vendor an unheard question. He responded by directing us out of the room and down a hallway lined with ornate wallpaper into a similar-looking store. Another assistant standing in the vicinity approached my mother with a hospitable demeanor. She asked her for help finding an ambiguous object like she had the last assistant, to which the worker responded by directing us out of the room again. We travelled up red-carpet stairs and through another slim hallway, only to find another magnificent store. When my mother went to talk to the vendor, I watched him shake his head and point to his right.
With my mother's increasing frustration, this process of walking into lavish stores, seeking out clerks in search of the item and being redirected continued. We moved from room to room for hours on end, traveling through countless stores and hallways bathed in the glow of yellow light. Somewhere along the line, however, the monotony was relieved by my mother's face of glee -- she had found the unknown object we had pursued for so long. Unfortunately, our celebration was short-lived, because the dream faded into blackness, and we reappeared in the first room, beginning the exhausting journey anew.
Mom consulted the familiar vendor again, who shook his head and directed us out into the hallway. Strangely, we moved twice as fast this time around, leaving the red carpet and mahogany in a blur. We hurried into the next store, and the conversation with the next clerk passed quickly as well. Our quest for the ambiguous object progressed at this faster pace until we reached the final store again. My mother's face lit up, but the mall faded into blackness as it had before. We reappeared at the first stop a third time, and our search advanced at an even faster pace. The journey progressed with smeared images of stores and hallways, and once we finished it, we recycled the trip faster, then again, faster, then faster, then faster. Our quest began so naïvely, searching for a simple object in a casual manner, but had escalated into a panic-ridden chase in the blink of an eye. The beauty of the hallways and decor blended together to a point beyond recognition, and I awakened dizzied by the whirlwind of the hunt.
Recall how in my previous entry, I reminisced the emotional magnitude of senior year and the importance of living in the now. Here I am, finally stopping to appreciate the brilliance of the summer before college begins. If I am so content with where my life is now, why is it that in my dream, I am so eager to move on to the next thing? Why does my subconscious have an insatiable obsession with moving?
It’s because I’m scared of stopping. I’m scared of never reaching the final store and finding my elusive treasure. I don’t want to stop, because through a broad string of assumptions, I equate stopping with finishing, settling, or quitting my pursuit. Idleness is apathy, is not caring about what I’m chasing and where it takes me. Idleness means that I don’t believe there is even a why that drives my pursuit.
But there is.
According to Newton’s first law of motion, the law of inertia, an object remains immobile until a force acts upon that object. If the same can potentially be said of humans, I believe there exists a force that animates and moves me, a force we refer to as “fulfillment.” Under the hand of inertia, the desire to learn what gratifies us pushes us from room to room. The indefinable object in my dream is what grants my mother and I this feeling. We cannot stop searching for it, but alas, when we think we are about to discover it, the dream collapses and keeps our purpose shrouded in mystery. Instead of ending right then and there, however, the search repeats again and again, despite the number of times I fail to reach it. Given these facts of futility, what’s the point of traveling through so many stores time after time when I only fail every single time?
Because I enjoy the time my mother and I spend trying to get there. In reality, I appreciate more the journey than the final outcome because of the experiences I have along the way. Take high school, for example. I spent four years working my a-- off in order to graduate and get into college. Sure, I am proud of my accomplishments, but I also feel this way partially because I was taught that college admissions are how I measure my success. But in the long run, I cherish the friends I made and the late nights I spent with them so much more than any acceptance letter. Likewise, wandering through the store adorned with beautiful decorations and spending time with my mother makes the dream rewarding. The increasing speed of the dream is not an omen, but in fact, an indicator of how I have come to learn so much about myself, permitting me to focus instead on learning my purpose. And because of this, I am more fulfilled by the journey than actually reaching my destination. Ironically, I am fulfilled by the process of finding what induces my feeling of fulfillment. We can’t transfix on finding our purpose to others. We must soak in the importance of our journeys through life before we see the light at the end of the tunnel that is lined with mahogany and red carpets.
