Aren't Everyone's Dreams Wonderful?
Somewhere among the stars, the children gathered for their lesson.
And with twenty-nine pairs of shoes by the door, twenty-nine lunchboxes all in a row along the back wall, and twenty-nine pairs of folded hands on twenty-nine desks, it began.
The teacher, with eyes like the stars and hair like the sun, asked,
"What are everyone's dreams?"
A meteor shower of cheers came forth.
"I want to be a doctor!"
"I want to be a fireman!"
"I want to be a politician!"
"…I want to be a killer."
And the teacher clasped her hands together.
"Aren't everyone's dreams wonderful? Let's work hard today so we can make our dreams come true."
That day the children learned that two plus two is four, and boast means brag, and seeds grow into flowers; and then they went home.
The next day, the children gathered for their lesson; and with twenty-nine backpacks on the rack, twenty-nine coats in the closet, and twenty-nine sets of culinary tools on the desks, it began.
The teacher asked,
"Won't you tell me your dreams again?"
Diamond-dust murmurs filled the air.
"I want to be a surgeon!"
"I want to be the fire chief!"
"I want to be the prime minister!"
"…I want to kill someone."
And the teacher put down her chalk.
"Aren't everyone's dreams wonderful? Let's work hard today, so even if our dreams don't come true, we can still be happy."
That day the children learned that bread is cheap, and vinegar cleans mirrors, and anyone can cook a burger; and then they went home.
The next day, the children gathered for their lesson; and found twenty-nine scalpels, twenty-nine charred pieces of fabric, twenty-nine stacks of paper, and twenty-nine knives scattered across the desks.
And the teacher looked down.
"Aren't everyone's dreams wonderful? But today, let's learn to dream a little more realistically."
To the boy who wanted to be a surgeon, she said,
"Look at that scalpel. You'll have to cut someone open—someone who might not live. Can you handle that?"
And the boy turned white.
To the boy who wanted to be the fire chief, she said,
"Look at that charred fabric. That might be all that's left of your comrades—or you. Can you handle that?"
And the boy trembled.
To the girl who wanted to be prime minister, she said,
"Look at that stack of paper. You'll have to make decisions that affect the citizens of an entire nation—and each step has to be documented with several hours' worth of paperwork. Can you handle that?"
And the girl covered her head.
To the girl who wanted to kill someone, she said,
"Look at this knife. If you want to be a killer, you'll inconvenience others. So instead of being a burden, why not kill yourself? Can you handle that?"
And the girl picked up the knife and put it through her chest.
That day, the children learned that stars are balls of gas, and meteors are falling debris, and dreams are only thoughts; and then they went home.
The next day, the adults gathered for their lesson; and with twenty-eight pairs of tired eyes, twenty-eight downcast looks, and twenty-eight pretenses, it began.
And the teacher asked,
"Won't you tell me your dreams again?"
The adults sat in silence for the rest of the day, and then they went home.
Notes/Manizu Chatter:
I originally wrote this as a stand-alone story, but didn't feel comfortable publishing it on its own. So here it is, recycled into fanfic…it's all good.
