Dreams~

Waiting so enviously until that day. I'm almost jealous that all these other people can sleep so soundly in their beds in the deep darkness which envelopes the world. Perhaps it's because I don't have a person who I call father. It's just me, my little brother and my mother and her boyfriend. I can't sleep at night - I look endlessly into the depths of space, searching for reason, searching for what may seem like a glimmer of hope. There are so many stars out there for me to reach up to, but all are so far far away. As I lay here on my bed, I peer outside my window, which I leave open since I'm a bit scared of the dark, and just stare. When I eventually do fall asleep, there is nothing to dream about, just a momentary pitch black. My father told me this before his passing;
"In this world, there is no guarantee that you'll live. There is no guarantee that you'll find what you're looking for in this lifetime. There is no control over your life. But I can tell you one way to grasp it for just a short while and feel like the world is yours. Dreams, son, dreams. The day when you dream, is the day your centre becomes your life for just that brief moment. Let me tell you my dreams I've been having lately, I dreamt of your mother, I dreamt of you and your brother. I held all of you in my arms as my house became engulfed in flames. Yet, as I look at it now... although the house was destroyed and smoke filled the skies, we were on the hill near our house. All I could think about was that everything is built on the 'truths' of this world and what we think. In just that brief moment of a dream, I had everything I needed. I didn't care about the house at all. But as I awoke from my sleep, and to find you here next to me, I can't help but feel somewhat sorry for you. Sorry that your old man can't be with you much longer. Sorry that you'll have to endure the hardships of this life without guidance from me. Sorry that you won't be able to learn the fundamental aspects of what it is to truly live in this world.
Son, just remember, dreams are something special, they help you realise where your heart lies and how you view the world. Until the day you can dream, son..."
My father died shortly after that. I was thirteen years of age at the time. It was the first time I ever felt sadness in the form of a person passing away. I didn't hit me at first, but when I went downstairs and looked at the kitchen table where my father used to drink his coffee and read his newspaper, I remembered that he wasn't going to be there anymore. I remembered. I understood...
Father, you told me until the day I can dream, my centre will be revealed. Why is that after all these years, my centre has always been you and finding you in my dreams, hoping that I can share a father-son moment with you. Hoping that you can teach me the ways of what it's like to be growing up with a fatherly figure. I can't dream, father, I can't dream. Maybe it's because I'm afraid I'll see you, and when I awake, it'll just be a vague memory of you. Dreams scare me.