Dream Rebirth

“Brendan! What are you doing?”

“Mum, am coming.” He closed his book and ran to his mum.

“How many times will I call you before you respond? For heaven’s sake, how many times will I call you before you come to meet me? Hun?” Sheila stood at akimbo waiting for her son’s reply.

“Mum, am very sorry, it won’t happen again,” he scratched his hair.

“Ok. I sincerely hope so. And if I may ask, what were you doing?”

“Oh, I was, I was reading some book,” he stuttered.

“What book is that?”

“It’s, It’s Beauty and the beast,” he stuttered more.

“You’re at it again. You and all these fairy tales. You get so engrossed whenever you’re reading them. Nothing seems to matter anymore. You just switch off from everything and everyone around.”

“Am sorry mum. It’s just that whenever I read these fairy tales, it’s like I am there. I see myself there. Right there in their world.”

“You had better come out from your fantasy. Come to the real world and make things happen.”

“Ok mum, have heard you. Does it mean no more story books?”

“Nah! I'll still get them.”

“Thank you mum. You're the best.”

Sheila laughs. “Only be careful dear.”

“No problem!” He said embracing her.

By the time he was in high school, Brendan had read almost all the fairy tales books. He had a yearning that was burning within him. He didn’t know for sure if it was something worth doing. He didn’t know how people would view it. He decided to discuss the matter with his English teacher. Mr. Ashley wasn’t of any help. He just jettisoned the idea. He didn’t see any light in it. He called it a futile effort. He said his intention was like building castles in the air. Brendan’s heart sank. He was dejected and depressed. No hope was left in him. Mr. Ashley was a role model and mentor to him. He admired him so much. He liked the way he talked and the way he taught. He liked the way he handled issues making them less invigorating even of no adverse effect. He liked the way he carried and comported himself. He saw him as a go getter, an achiever and someone he could confide in. But every zeal in him had been killed. It was pointless as Mr. Ashley had rightly said. It’s like building on another man’s dream. It’s like painting a building that had already been finished. You don’t get the credit. People don’t get to see your effort. They all know the master builder. These were the thoughts that ran through his mind.

It was his final year in college. There was so much to do. Classes to attend, term papers to submit, seminars to present, exams to write and project to submit and defend. He went to an office to make enquiries about some things he needed. The receptionist asked him to wait a while that when it was his turn she would inform him. While he was waiting, he picked up a magazine, flipping through the pages, he came across a word that struck him. It was from an interview. The man said, ‘A times and even most often, the people who you accord so much respect to tend not to buy into your dreams. Don’t wait for them to propel you to start. Just start something.’ That was it all. The final straw that broke the camel’s back. He exhumed his dreams and ambitions. 

“Mum!” He called on his mum with so much excitement 

“Hello! Son. This that you’re calling with so much excitement. Have you won a lottery?”

“No mum, I haven’t. But I have something more than a lottery.”

“And what’s that?”

“Remember what I discussed with you some years back. I also told you that I had earlier discussed it with my English teacher.”

“Oh! Yeah! I can remember. It seems you said Mr. Ashley wasn’t in support. Neither was I.”

“Mum, do you know what?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Am taking up my long forgotten dream. Am standing by it and watch it grow.”

“But for heaven’s sake, why on earth would you retell other people’s fairy tales? Can’t you write yours?”

“Mum, just want to tell you my intention. Bye!”

“Oh! Ok. Bye.”

Brendan started off as he had said. He took one fairy tale after the other and started retelling them. He did them with so much carefulness and creativity. He didn’t change the theme but he only changed the characters and settings. Some people even preferred his retold story to the original story. He started rising in popularity. His work gained much recognition. His ratings soared. He retold a tale and that was it. He was nominated for an award. That was the highest point in his career. He had reached the apogee of his career. His effort was no longer futile as Mr. Ashley and his mum had envisaged. He was glad he followed his dream and stood firm on his grounds against all odds. He was at home about to retire to bed after a hectic day when his phone rang. It was his mum calling. He picked the call.

“Hello! Son.”

“Hello! Mum.”

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure you are? I don’t like the way you sound.”

“Mum, I'm fine. Am just tired. Had a hectic day today. I just need some good sleep.”

“Ok. Brendan, I just want to say am proud of you.”

“Oh! Thank you mum.”

“ I'm not mincing words. Am indeed proud of you. I love your doggedness, resilience and perseverance. You made it. You've hit the crescendo. I saw that you were nominated for an award. Well done.”

“Thank you mum. It’s indeed an honour.”

“Son, do you know what?”

“No, mum. Anything?”

“I want to say I'm indeed sorry for not believing in you, for not been in support of your dream. I'm so sorry for not seeing light in it and for considering it hopeless. Please forgive me.”

“Oh! Mum. There’s no problem. No hard feelings. Although I was hurt that you didn’t believe in me but the worst would have been if I didn’t believe in myself. Your unbelief only spurred me to work harder. And am grateful it paid off at the end. My effort was recognised.”

“Yeah! Am also grateful too.”

“Thank you mum.”

“Love you son.”

“Love you too.”

“I ’call you later. Bye.”

“Bye, mum.”

Brendan sat on his bed, shook his head and smiled.