An Expensive Dream
What makes something expensive, I wonder?
Is it the rarity?
Is it the memory or sentiment attached to it?
Is it the effort?
Is it the significance?
The condition?
The time?
The necessity?
The impact?
Or is it because of who wants it?
I have been plagued by the same dream for four consecutive years. Reflecting back, I was constantly battling with the "price." Initially, it was the literal price - the money. Once I had secured the funds, the price of pursuing my dream shifted to mental health. Money was no longer the issue, but rather my well-being held me back. Now, what makes it expensive revolves around money and time. I am no longer young enough to dedicate my time to pursuing various dreams - or so they say. They claim I should get married first, or even have children, before chasing after my dream.
This transformation in the concept of price has left me angry and frustrated. Where did all these prices come from? I would be naïve to say they solely exist in my mind or that they are merely a matter of perspective. Because they are not! I am grappling with something tangible that exists beyond my mind: the economy and culture.
When sailing on a boat, it is essential to perceive the journey as a whole - not fixating on the storm, the birds, the waves, or the salty water.
Whenever I find myself stuck, I strive to see things from a broader perspective. I put myself in the shoes of past generations. Back then, my current dreams did not even cross their minds. People were preoccupied with seeking refuge from ongoing wars. It may seem foolish to compare today's circumstances to the past, but hey, within the span of just ten years, we cannot foresee what lies ahead. There could be a war. I might be involved in an accident and lose my sight. I could be kidnapped and sold elsewhere. For some, this kind of thinking may be unnecessary, depressive, or even far-fetched. However, it is not entirely impossible for me.
Returning to my childhood, I was born in a peaceful area that spoiled me with abundant entertainment and loving friends. However, it did not last long. When I turned eight, my hometown suddenly became a conflict-ridden zone. Shopping malls, swimming pools, hotels, and even public places were bombed and transformed into military bases. Several of my closest friends relocated to other areas. The number of classrooms in elementary school decreased from four to three due to a significant drop in student enrollment. For several years, the city lights remained unseen due to curfews. All activities ceased after 6 pm. I heard the sound of explosions and gunfire. Reports of abductions became all too familiar. At that time, I was too young to grasp the gravity of the situation. My school friends and I would casually discuss nearby shootings as if we were watching an action movie. We were not frightened.
Recollecting those moments as an adult, I realize how genuinely terrifying it was. I cannot fathom what my parents must have felt when they instructed us to lie down after hearing gunshots right outside our house. Fast forward to when I was 14, a tsunami struck my hometown. Fortunately, I did not reside near the epicentre, so my immediate family members were safe. Nevertheless, I lost numerous relatives. All these events have transpired, and here I am. Anything can happen in such an unpredictable time and space, even when one has taken every precaution to be careful. Certain things can be managed through good planning and attentiveness, while others are entirely beyond our control.
Knowing that I cannot fully control my future, I ask myself: where does this notion of price truly lie? Should I abandon my dreams because they are too costly? Or because someone told me I am too old for them? Considering that I could perish at any moment, do all these prices hold any significance? I wonder.
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