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I had the strangest dream last night. The temperature in my room was humid and I knew that I was dreaming. I remember in my dream that I was gazing at my family in the past and future and that I had seven sons. Each bear a resemblance to me. Each slowly grew up before my eyes to be persons of worth. Strong, capable and great men of challenges. Each independent of the other but all looking towards me. I become prouder every second I see their accomplishments. I knew this must be a dream. I didn't have daughters to which I wondered. Yet the sons were from my loins. They traveled around greater cities and had their own families among them. I gasped at all the images. I could only watch and call each of them my own but from a dreamy bubble eye. Eventually, I was drawn farther away. Perhaps this is what parents were always meant to be. They would be witnesses and guides to their children and nothing less than that. I felt my heart would burst with pride yet I was scared that I was having a heart attack. I struggled to wake up but regretting I might miss the great life unfold before me and then I woke up.
I wonder what the dream meant, why seven and what I had to do? I know having seven sons would probably kill my future wife and that raising them all up would beggar me with too many distractions. I want a simpler life then. I didn't want the ending of my story. I didn't want it at all.
Amiel Gerald A. Roldan™
Mandaluyong City, Philippines
amiel_roldan@yahoo.com
amiel.roldan@gmail.com
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www.fineartamerica.com/profiles/a-g-roldan.html
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