DREAMS: A Doorway to the Future
Growing up, the nighttime was always my favorite time of the day. It's quite an odd tale for kids my age, maybe cos we were told stories that bad things always happened at night.
Well, for me, the night budded like the Queen of the night into a beauty the eyes always longed for – starting with the sound of the clicking cricket, to the bustling of the midnight mosquito, and the barking of the watchdogs. The animal section of the night came with soothing sounds my ear loved, however, my favorite scene in the night was the stargazing.
On one occasion, Mother took a stroll into my room to check if I was properly tucked in the blanket because of the roaring cold winds blaring through the roof of our house. This was a part of her nocturnal routine – checking up on her kids, especially her little one, Ada, whose bed was a few meters away from mine.
Walking into the room that night, there I was staring through our wooden window at the star-lit sky, trying to beat the idea that it was impossible to have them numbered. For a moment, I felt they were in my hands to reach for, grab and hold. Their collective glow lit the streets of the eyes, you could see it in how I stared at them.
Mother shouted, "Prince!"
The sound of her voice snapped me out of my reverie. I quickly turned to face her, guilt evident in my eyes as I scrambled to pull the blanket up to my chin, a pseudo cover for my guilt and fear.
"Sorry, Mother," I weakly mumbled, feeling sheepish under her stern gaze.
She sighed, her expression softening as she approached my bed. "Why do you insist on staying up so late, my dear?"
I shrugged, unable to articulate the pull the night sky had on me. "I just... I feel like the stars have stories to tell, Mother. Like they're trying to communicate something."
A flicker of understanding passed through her eyes before she smiled gently. "Well, perhaps they do, Prince. But it's important to get enough rest, especially for growing boys like yourself."
For a moment, I felt a warm spring of assurance filling the room as Mother's eyes softened, reflecting the moonlight that spilled through the window.
"What are you counting, Prince?" she asked, her voice gentle.
Hesitantly, I admitted my impossible task, my voice small in the vastness of the night. "The stars," I whispered, "I just want to know how many there are."
A smile tugged at the corner of Mother's lips. "There are too many stars to count, little prince," she said, sitting beside me as she tucked her feet into the pink duvet. "But that doesn't mean you can't know them."
Intrigued by her response, I leaned closer, my worries about reprimands fading away like ice melting before the heat. Mother pointed to a cluster of stars, their light forming a familiar shape. "See that? That's the Lion, guarding the night sky. And over there, that's the Hunter, chasing Orion across the celestial plains."
As she narrated, the stars transformed from distant pinpricks into a vibrant tapestry woven with myths and legends. She spoke of heroes and monsters, of lovers and tricksters, each constellation breathing life into the twinkling expanse.
With each story, a warmth bloomed across the tables of my small chest, chasing away the cold night's air.
The stories went on until the first tendrils of dawn painted the horizon. "Remember, little Prince, the stars are more than just lights. They hold stories, dreams, and adventures waiting to be discovered. All you need is a little imagination," Mother whispered as she planted a soft kiss on my forehead.
Now, that I'm older, the stars remain my companions, whispering wisdom and hope during difficult times. As Mother always said, "Find something far more valuable from within you, always remember big dreams start small.
She often added, "Even the smallest of dreams could shine as brightly as the stars themselves."