It was a dark evening in the middle of nowhere. Some men were huddled around a small table staring at a hand-drawn map with an X written so many times that it’s almost through the parchment. They were reassuring, or more closely, convincing each other they have pin-pointed the location of the treasure buried by the Japanese Imperial Army as it retreated from the advancing American troops during World War II.
None of them could say what the treasure consisted of, but each wanted to believe that it was gold bars.
These men were all glassy-eyed, each living in his own fantasy world, fueled by an almost tangible vision of glistening gold bars in their hands. Nothing could pry them away from their fantastic waking dreams of riches beyond their wildest imaginings. Dreaming is free and these men know how to max it out. Not even the sky could put a limit to their waking dreams.
So at the crack of dawn, they headed to where X marked the spot. With sweaty hands, they held their shovels, their hearts beating fast, their anxiety almost unbearable. Each of them had the same visions, just not in the same order. Whatever was first or last: cars, new houses, best universities for the kids, jewelry, a new motorcycle, a jet ski, a power boat, a vacation to Europe or America, women, for those afflicted with carnal longings, whatever it was, it paraded in their minds.
These things seemed so attainable; they could almost feel having them already. The hard ground was no match for the excitement that drove the shovels into it. They dug a main hole and other, smaller ones around it, expanding the spot that the X marked. That way, they were sure, they surrounded the treasure, leaving no chance of them not finding it.
Excitement proved better than protein at fueling their bodies–it seemed inexhaustible. Midday and they were still at it, creating a pile of dug earth big enough to have buried a pickup truck.
Finally, they began to tire, their excitement no longer strong enough to sustain them. Their shovels now showing their shiny metal selves, their outside paint long worn away with every stroke. Just as strongly as it came flooding in, their excitement began to ebb, reluctantly, but surely taking with it their dreams and aspirations, their imagined riches, leaving them emotionally crushed. The dug earth would have to stay where it was forever. There was no more energy to put it back in the holes it came out of.
With nary a smile, they bade each other goodbye. They did not talk about a next time. All they know is that they were so wrong this time.
Real things started to fade in–the bills due tomorrow, groceries, children’s tuition, etc. Why did I quit my job for this (treasure hunting)? This was the thought in most of the men’s minds.
Yet, all it would take is another rumor of another treasure somewhere, to stoke their uncontrollable urges to waste yet more of their time and money, betting on nothing but a dream.
These men are amazing, at best, and stupid, at worst, relying on a future supported only by the raving lunacy of the thought of impossible riches. They are the treasure hunters.
Everyone revels in the thought of enormous wealth, but most know that unless you’ve already been hit by a chest of gold that fell from the sky, it is the most unlikely thing to happen in your life.
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If we could use dreams to buy our way through life, why work? Sadly, that is not the case. In order to buy the next meal, we must have money, real money, at the very time that you buy it. We could not dream a plate of food unto a table to eat. We could not sit somewhere and dream that somehow our electric bill will be paid, or for the school to issue us a receipt for tuition payment they received through our dream. How special we would be if it were the case.
Instead, we work to pay our way through life. It doesn’t matter–we have our own business or are employed–it’s all work. The stark reality is that nothing comes our way so effortlessly and free, no matter how good we are at dreaming it. Our existence cannot be on lay-away. There is no such thing as eat-now-pay-later. Life is now. Life is consciously lived. Life is as we do it.
As important as dreams are, it is also a destroyer of lives. Treasure hunters are dreamers until they have found their treasure.
Dreams–it hypnotizes people with its unimaginable breadth and the breathtakingly beautiful visions that it offers. Anyone could be mesmerized, easily taking as victims those so predisposed. Those chronic dreamers have left their families vulnerable to hardships. They turn a deaf ear to them, stubbornly following their own skewed beliefs, not realizing their destructiveness. They believe that their treasure is somewhere out there, just waiting for them to find it. The now is left on hold because the promise of wealth is just around the next corner. That is why they must take the next corner, not as a gamble but as a course of action to finding that elusive treasure. They believe that they can win only after they have lost. How many times? They don’t care. They have become glassy-eyed.
I think we can have a role in helping the dreamers abandon their dreams, and come to grips with what is accepted as reality. Some of these people we know, as well as the families who must live with them and endure the consequences of their seeming irresponsibility.
We must help them overcome the temptations of dreams that entice them to forego of their own well-being and that of their families. We must help them realize that they will never find that treasure in the future, just as surely as they have not found it in the past.
If they are slated by fate to find their treasure, they will find it. Until then, I think they should continue to lead a life that is devoid of such wanton dreams. If one was meant to find a treasure, one would find it, dream or no dream.
In excess, even dreams of treasures can destroy if not fulfilled. Then again, in the end, others don’t care. They believe there’s a treasure out there, just waiting for them to find it. That’s just the way it is.
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Author’s email: [email protected]
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