Resurrecting Dreams

Under the enchanting canvas of the sky, painted in hues of pink and purple that evoked the dreamy essence of a cotton candy, Daniel stood in front of an aged tombstone in his hometown. His heart raced, and he felt like he could not breathe properly. The cemetery was a place of memories, each gravestone holding the story of someone's life. But for Daniel, it was different. For Daniel, this place held a piece of his past that he hoped to resurrect.

He gazed at the tombstone, which was written his own name, a birth date of September 25, 1993, and a death date of July 14, 2008. To the world, it was merely a marker, a memorial to the young guy he once was. But to Daniel, it was a symbol of a part of himself he had lost over the years. The vibrancy, the dreams, the hope of his youth, all buried beneath the weight of responsibilities, time, and the relentless march of life.

July 14th, 2008 was the date he moved from his hometown. He left his hometown behind due to financial circumstances and later, to pursue opportunities abroad. In the years that followed, he lived in different countries and formed connections with people from various walks of life. Now, he had returned to his hometown. For him, the city did not change much, or maybe changed, but his memories were blurred, and he did not remember the details. What surprised him was that he was in his hometown, yet it no longer felt like home.

Daniel took a deep breath, composing himself for what he was about to attempt. He was determined to bring life back into the part of himself that felt dead. He had heard of an old incantation from a friend, a tale told during a night of shared memories and the clinking of glasses in a bar. His friend had told him that this incantation, passed down through generations, could potentially bring the past to life if one believed enough.

The spell consisted of writing three letters: one filled with his dreams and happy memories, one bringing the weight of guilt and regrets, and another with the pain and sadness that had haunted him. The first should be seeded, the second, burned, and the third, should be landed beneath the river and carried away by the currents.

With unwavering determination, Daniel prepared to plant the first letter, filled with his dreams and happy memories, on the soft earth near the tombstone.

His friend instructed him to read it once more before he sows it. As he reads the letter, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. The words transferred him to his youth and painted vivid images in his mind. He remembered the joy of creating stories in the theater of his imagination, a practice that had once transported him to countless worlds. Road trips warmed his soul and could feel the wind that swayed his hair as he watched the landscapes, connecting him with the beauty of nature. The sense of freedom that he used to feel during a horseback ride, an experience that transcended mere physicality. The pursuit of knowledge, the thirst for understanding, and the excitement of exploring the mysteries of the cosmos and random information in the encyclopedias. Memorizing facts and voraciously reading stories in books had been a gateway to adventure and learning. Back then, learning new things used to bring nothing more than pleasure. Now, it always seems like a path to achieve something.

He then remembered a dream he used to have. He liked to observe people. These were the people toiling away in construction, those tirelessly cleaning the streets, and even those who called the streets their homes. He appreciated the notion of envisioning what each of their lives might be like. Every morning, as his parents set off for their jobs, he saw a correctional facility through the car. It was then that he would envision the lives of the inmates and the women who queued up to visit them. How would be their lives? He could picture himself inhabiting in the slums, in a small town near the river, or even in a bustling metropolis. His dream was to experience life as each of these diverse individuals did. His dream was to be able to live a period of his life as each one of the different people. He never dreamed of living in different countries but exploring the world that exists in a single place.

Then, he once remembered a conversation he had with a stranger in the street. He randomly asked him to tell a piece of his story that he was proud to call his own. The man said “I am not proud of anything. Everything I am proud of I have done until I was 20. After this, I chased money and stopped to do the things I really wish.” He then reflected on his motivations in the past years. He maybe did not chase money that much, but he still did not have done the things he wished to do. His motivations lately were maybe more focused on what society expected than what he expected for himself.

He then remembered his dreams to change the world. He recalled the notebook he used to carry everywhere, writing things that could be solved, things that could be different or better, pieces of learning here and there. Creating a solution to all the problems of the world sounded easy back then. “Why do I stop trying?” He then reflected if he was that he now felt he was incapable of solving the issues of the world or just stopped caring. But here he was, trying to recover this bright in the eyes, his passion and strength.

He then folded the piece of paper in four parts, and watched the soil embrace the letter, like planting a seed of hope.

The second letter, containing his guilt and regrets, heavy with the burden of sorrow, he set alight. As the flames consumed it, he could feel the release of the pain that had long held him captive.

For the second letter, his friend said to not read it before burning it. It was enough to just have written once. He could not go back to the past to fix his mistakes, and bringing back them would not help to make his old self alive.

The third letter, containing his sad memories, he should place into the flowing waters of a nearby stream, watching it drift away, carried by the current.

Before placing it in the lake, his friend said to say a spell “From the tears, wisdom now bloom.”

He did not read it again, but he thought about the moment he wrote the piece of paper and cried over the paper. Then, he decided to make an origami a past lover had taught him. He folded the paper several times and made a small boat. Then, he left the boat floating under the river water.

With the ritual complete, Daniel felt a strange energy surging through him. The earth beneath him trembled, and a soft glow covered the tombstone. He stared in amazement as the ground shifted, and a figure began to emerge from the grave, slowly, as if rising from a deep sleep.

It was his younger self, a spectral silhouette of the 15-year-old boy he once was. The young Daniel’s eyes sparkled with the same dreams and aspirations that had been buried for so long.

For a moment, the two versions of Daniel looked into each other’s eyes, communicating a bond that transcended the barriers of time and space. The younger self's presence felt like a warm, nostalgic embrace. They sat together near the tombstone, talking and learning about each other, reminiscing about old adventures, dreams, and the boundless potential of youth.

As they talked, Daniel came to a profound realization. He had to love and accept all parts of himself, even the hurt and painful memories, to fully recover his old dreams and enthusiasm for life. It wasn't about erasing the past but integrating it into his present.

With this newfound understanding, the young and old Daniel shared a final, heartfelt hug. The young Daniel transformed into a radiant, yellow light, and merged with his older version, so the once pale and almost grayish body of Daniel became infused with a vibrant, golden energy.

Leaving the cemetery, Daniel drove to the bustling city he now called home, carrying with him the spirit of his younger self and the lessons he had learned. He threw the window open and allowed the wind to touch his hair. As he gazed out at the surrounding nature, he transported himself into a vivid daydream. In his mind's eye, he was riding a powerful horse, the rhythmic hoofbeats echoing on the soft, rain-soaked grass. He could feel the excitement of the wind against his face as he imagined steering the horse towards a magnificent waterfall. There, in the translucent pool at the base of the falls, he visualized himself taking a refreshing bath, the cascading water washing away the cares of the world. The days that followed were filled with a newfound sense of purpose, and he pursued his dreams with unwavering determination.

And at the very spot where he had planted the letter filled with his childhood dreams, a vibrant flower sprouted, a testament to the rebirth of hope and the enduring power of the human spirit. A bit further away, nestled in the water, a delicate water lily also thrived. And just as from his sad memories, a beautiful flower also emerged.